Fantasy The Last Judgement

[Anise]

KAYDEN JULIAN HUANG
​

TAGS: snake daddy Kaas and a road runner CupAndCough
OOC: sorry this took so long...enjoy :3



His eyes becoming smaller and smaller. Thinking, losing himself somewhere deep in his thoughts-


”Alright. That body is definitely not fresh, however don't let your guard down--I doubt whatever killed them isn’t wandering around.” .


Kayden's heart stopped when Velska's voice cut through the silence, his body flinching to all the noise she was making.


'' Jesus Christ on a bicycle, Velska! Don't ever do that again! Be ashamed. Don't ya ever do this to an elderly. My poor excuse of a heart could've just stopped…Well, good thing for maggots, but you know there's still something I have to do before dying, and yeah. No doubt this crawlies' snack isn't fresh,'' he replied,''can tell by the appealing smell of it,'' Kayden wrinkled his nose at the body. It. Was. Not. A. Pleasant. Sight.


Then suddenly, footsteps were heard.


The freckled hunter gestured them both with the hand to be quiet, stopped talking himself, and then listened.


Turning back to Velska and Adisa, a loud smashing sound made him flinch, resulting him to forcefully turn around to be greeted by a broken vase lying on the floor smashed to thousands of pieces.


''Hahaha, Adisa. Using one of your mumbo jumbo things again, aren't ya? Stop it, okay?'' Kayden said with a smirk, a trace of fear escaping his voice as he looked over at the man, a deadpan expression painted on his face, ''Not funny. I'm serious…Stop it.''


After throwing a deadly glare at Adisa, Kayden took a deep breath and then started walking down the hallway intending of searching the rooms through, eliminating the thought of the thing he hated the most- the possibility that there could be a lil Casper hiding under a rug.


Suddenly a tapping sound was heard.


Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.


''Did you hear that?'' He paused, looking at the two .


''We're not alone'' he said rather calmly and then launched himself after the sound. Breaking into one of the rooms he didn't really think about what he was doing. His heart having a race, he knew something was badly wrong with the place and that made him wish to leave. The sooner the better. Sadly for him, the rushed reaction he made reflected badly on the following moments.



After dashing into the room the doors slammed shut behind his back, making him flinch a little. He swiftly turned around, shivers running down his spine,


''Adisa, Velska, you all right?!'' he screamed through the thick wooden doors, when a giggling sound distracted him. Kayden forcefully turned his head around. He could feel the colour draining from his face when he opened his mouth,


''Who's there?! I'm not afraid of you! Show yourself!'' he yelled at the nothingness when a sudden flashback of the horror he'd been through at that cursed mansion came back to his mind followed by the question,'' Am I still dreaming?''


Silence.


The sudden, eerie silence filling the air as the boy slowly started turning his head around, scanning the area for a possible threat.


The giggles…they were gone, but were they truly gone?


Kayden ticked his head to the side. Was his mind just playing tricks on him? Could it possibly be that he started hearing voices now?


''That's it…I finally lost it,'' the words echoed through his head.


The right hand rubbing his nape while the left one clenched to his chest, measuring the pulse of his racing heart. Kayden closed his eyes, slowly counting to ten before returning back to the doors. He needed to calm down, he couldn't believe he reacted so recklessly to the noise.


When trying to open the doors he realized they were locked, but how?


After a deadly moment of silence, the giggles suddenly made their way back into the young hunter's ears. The suspense that made his heart pick up a bit.


Kayden's eyes widened, ''What is this? Some kind of scenario for a horror film?'' he murmured to himself.


Turning around he slowly reached out for his hunting dagger and then crossed his hands behind his back, preventing whoever or whatever stood there from seeing it, an unexpected sight painting in front of his eyes.


There was a girl. A young girl standing in the middle of the room. ''A human…?'' the silent question floated through his mind as he took a second to analyse the figure, taking it all in. The moment he noticed the girl's translucent hair, the way her dress floated through the air. The image of the girl that looked as if she'd know the way of fighting the gravity, of fooling the life and death itself.


A ghost.


The freckled hunter shook his head. Dealing with ghosts was never one of the things he could brag about. He sucked at it. He hated the whole ghost dealing thing right from the very start of his training towards becoming a hunter and it all went into flames when the two of his friends had joined the angels above…


The girl kept staring at the boy, not even trying to move her gaze from the blue irises of his eyes . Throwing a seductive smile at the 'hunter,' Kayden rolled with his eyes,


''What? Do I have something on my face?'', he asked with a smirk.


The girl kept smiling, slowly making her way towards the hunter, when her thin, bony fingers ran through her hair, flipping it to the side.


That was the time when the freckled boy realized what she was after,


''Oh, well, you know…you seem nice and all, but the truth is…uh, yeah, well …it would be kinda hard to date you…you see…'' he was looking for the right words to put it ass he knew that every single ghost was a universe of its own, a unique puzzle just waiting to show you their teeth when you expected the least. Then he suddenly blunt out,


''That girl outside, Velska…well she wouldn't be happy to see me with another woman. She'd most probably kick your ass if you'd even think of kissing me.''


Ok that was very cringe-worthy,but it was the only thing he could come up with at the time.


The girl suddenly stopped walking, a frown painting on her face. It seemed that she didn't fancy the answer the hunter gave her. Kayden saw the look in her eyes and that was the moment he knew that he screwed up big time.


Fuck.


It felt as if the time itself would've stopped for a moment. Only a few seconds before he'd become a goner.


The girl suddenly launched herself after Kayden, her hands ready to dig deep into the flesh of his neck.


He was caught off guard.


Grabbing his throat, the girl kept smiling at him while he was aching in pain. He knew salt or iron would to the trick and yeet her away but the confusion that overflowed him at the time, made him unable to fight back.


It all happened too fast and he wasn't ready. The last time he dealt with a ghost of any kind was back at his academy days. Even during those two years of hell he somehow managed to stay away from the little translucent monsters.


Fighting for air, his eyes slowly started closing. It was almost over. He fell to his knees. A few seconds before facing the death, a few seconds before leaving this planet, when suddenly, a loud screeching sound echoed through his skull.


He opened his eyes to see the ghost screaming in intense pain, fire tracing from her back. The grip around his throat losing its strength, before letting it go completely.


Kayden looked at the burning monster, his eyes barely opened as he watched the ghost turning into dust.


Someone saved his ass….again.


The freckled hunter slowly stood up, let out a few coughs and then opened the door and walked out of the room, straight to the staircase and then all the way down to the first floor. His focus being mainly on staying on his feet, the hunter didn't even care if Adisa and Velska followed. All the sounds felt distant to him, so even if they'd try to talk to him, he wouldn't understand a word they would be saying.


Coming to the first floor, he plunked himself on the floor near the staircase.


''The heck just happened,'' he murmured to himself.

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

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[div class=statusText] Location: Hampton Inn 4th floor
BGM: Never Enough
Interactions: Prince of Assholery BasiliskVeranda |The Real Hero BELIAL. |Little-miss-better-watch-herself-don't-think-I-don't-see-you-ogling-him Steel_427 |Ryan the Bro Lakyr
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[div class=statusText][/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
He snorted softly, mouth curving into the faint twitch of a smile. "I always worry."
Especially about you.
Something kept him from saying that last part. Like his mouth couldn't quite form the words or his lungs refused to draw enough breath to do so. Either way that last part of his sentence fell off the edge of a proverbial cliff. His shoulders lifted feebly, "Yeah, could be worse." His jest felt a little weak, even to him, but he was trying to soothe that darkening wave of thought he could see wash over Nik's face. If he said what he thought he was going to say so help him--

"Please. I'm fine, and this is my fault,"

Rhys' azure orbs slid sideways, casting an un-amused, flat, vaguely irritated look at this afflicted idiot. This wasn't actually his fault, Rhys knew that, and even if it was he'd sure as hell forgive him. After he throttled the crap out of him. And then let Penny throttle the crap out of him. It would have been a lot of throttling...

"Voss....if you say that horseshit again, I'll definitely kick your ass all the way down to the first floor. This isn't your fault, you didn't know she'd do that. And it's not like you asked her to throw me through a wall."

His words held a slight wheeze to them, lessening the blow of the threat, yet the pure irritation on his face probably made up for it. He knew what it felt like. To believe that you were at fault for everything, yet it simply wasn't true and as soon as this numb-nuts got that through his thick skull Rhys could happily pick up where they left off. He closed his eyes against the pain that arched through his back, tightening his grip on Nik just a bit as they walked. When his gaze was opened up to the world again, he focused it between the carpeting of the halls and the side of Nik's face. The shadow was still there, hovering between words unsaid and the thoughts that simmered in that beautifully twisted mind. Never in his life had he wanted to pull someone close and never let go, to shelter and protect them, and yet somehow feel that even if he gave them the world it wouldn't quite be enough. Yet here he was, hanging against Nik's leaner frame and...wanting.

Rhys seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. He wasn't sure when it had started, this thawing of the ice around his heart, maybe the same moment Nik had plucked that snake off him? Or the water-bottle offering at the gas station? Either way, he had slipped past those defenses without the detective's knowledge and wormed his way so deep that Rhys wasn't sure he could even picture a future without him there. The entire group: James, Penny, Alaska, Reverie, Kayden....they had all managed something similar, but not to this extent. And he didn't think that Nik knew that, despite what he had said back there about staying, he wasn't sure this Qusai-devil understood the implications of those words.

If he did, then maybe he wouldn't have felt like he had to blame himself.

Rhys was lugged back into the so-called safe room, making note of the young girl --Daisy-- who had lingered behind. He was brought over to the bed and before he could even think about muttering something outrageously witty, Nik was stepping from his side to move towards the wall. A poorly concealed frown curled at his lips, but his attention was taken by Penny before he could so much as utter a complaint. “Rhys, I’m going to heal you now. Then we are going to have to let you rest, okay? No more hero.”

He exhaled a shallow breath, rubbing some of the dry wall dust out of his hair. "Gotham needs me, Penny." He flashed her a cheeky smirk, but didn't bother to argue. She was right and they both knew it, he needed rest probably more than he needed any healing. He was surprised at the touch on his cheek, skin flushing to the point where the tips of his ears were burning red. Rhys shifted on the bed a little uncomfortable with the friendly affection, but he didn't swat her hand away. She was such a fuckin' mother hen.
He closed his eyes as the warmth of her blessing arched through his veins like lightning. It was a fire run rampant, raw and untamed, mimicking and twisting across his own well of power. The tattoos on his back, wings crafted of ink so black it envied a starless sky, surged in tandem with her own. They spun and swirled into a blinding hue of white, pulsing robin's egg blue under the cotton of his shirt. The couple of feathers that peaked over the collar of his shirt was the only clear sign of this reaction; even Rhys wasn't aware of how his tattoos moved in response. It was as if the blessing itself were alive.

When she pulled her hands away, he opened his eyes with a deep inhale. He could still feel the pain in his back along with the worst case of heartburn he had ever experienced, but he could tell that it wasn't as bad as it had been before. He figured that all she needed to do was heal some bruising anyway.

“Remember what I said. No more hero!”

The whitelighter flipped her the bird, lips stretched into a grin, and blue eyes glittering with a combination of humor and exhaustion. It mellowed quickly however, and he found himself leaning back into the mattress of the bed with a groan. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he slept on an actual bed. "Bit hypocritical, aren't we?" He muttered to himself with a soft snort, pulling the puffy white comforter up around him. There was no way he was sleeping...at least not for long and definitely not with an unknown teenager in the room. He watched her from his cocoon of blankets, azure orbs flickering from her to where her focus lay.

“Watch him, please. Let him sleep and for god’s sake… don’t go chasing after ghosts again. Diana could come back, Nik… There’s one more pipe I think, right there. Just go swinging, and hope to god she’ll go away. We'll try to be fast, and then find out what the heck this is all about.”
"I will."
"I can hear you, ya know. I'm right here."

They ignored him as Penny moved closer to the door and Nik fidgeted anxiously. His brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line as annoyance simmered to the surface.
"I left her photo in that room. It's probably that. Even with everything that's happened...I'd,"
Rhys sat up a little bit, watching him hesitate, before he continued with the words that blanketed a chill over him, "No. Burn it. She lost me long ago."
He never knew Diana, well aside from the ghost that tried to kill him for attempting to sleep with her fiance, but he wasn't sure that she deserved something so...harsh. To just burn her for that little thing, without saying goodbye, it didn't seem right. There was no justice in that, not for her at least.

"Don't. You give her the send off she deserves." He winced as he adjusted himself to sit up a bit more. "If you burn that photo without saying goodbye, you'll regret it more in the end." The look he gave him brokered no argument. Rhys didn't care if she flung him through six walls or strangled his heart until he was an inch from death. "Get her to leave peacefully, as peacefully as you can. Just....promise me you won't forsake her. There's almost nothing worse than having someone you love turn their back on you." His voice cracked on the last part and he cleared his throat to disguise it. There had been something a little too real in that advice, something that almost alluded to him speaking from experience. He was quiet after that, favoring to stare at the blankness of the sheets. He heard Penny and Ryan leave before he went to sink back into the bed. Yeah...there was no way he was sleeping now.

"Are you guys okay?"
His head lifted off the bed to look in the direction of the teenage girl. She had said it more to Nik than him, though he supposed he was included from the way her gaze flickered between them before decidedly resting on the blond. Rhys huffed, letting his head flop down against the pillow in mute agitation. She's just trying to be nice.....

He perked his head up again, watching the other man sink to the floor before watching the girl. No she's definitely making moon eyes. MOON EYES. You know who else makes moon eyes?

Rhys expelled the thought with another huff, rolling over to plop his arm repeatedly against the mattress. The action created soft thumps against the covers. "Nik." His voice was soft though completely commanding, concern knitting his brow as he watched that guilt weave it's way into his smile. He thought he heard the blond mutter something, but he wasn't exactly sure if it was a response to Daisy or to him. The healing Penny had done was graciously appreciated, but he could still feel the phantom burn in his chest and the searing ache against his back and it was making him cranky. He wanted to sleep, but he wouldn't when Nik looked like that (not to mention the leering pubescent a few feet away).

"Niklas fucking Voss if you don't get your old gay ass up on this bed, I swear to the lord I will drag you up here myself. I know you can fucking hear me, you aren't deaf yet, so hurry the fuck up."
He patted the mattress again for extra emphasis. It was needy, poorly disguised as a taunting command, but he didn't give a fuck. He just wanted to sleep....and as embarrassing as it was to admit, the best nights sleep he had in two years was next to this man. It hadn't been consensual at the time, but...well he hadn't awoken from a nightmare for the first time in forever. He would trample his own pride ten times over if it meant he didn't have to wake up with screams lodged in his throat and cold sweat dripping down his back.

His eyelids felt heavy as he adjusted the covers and he wouldn't doubt that soon enough he'd be sleeping. But he didn't want the other man so far away. He tried to tell himself that it was for insurance purposes...but the reality of it was that he just felt better when he was by his side. "Nik." His name was a plea.
He might not have known the blond as well as he would've liked, but he would spend the rest of his life --however long that was-- dedicated to that pursuit.

Rhys extended a hand out and he rolled onto his stomach, burying his face into the pillow and waiting for the other man to sulk over and take his hand.
"Please stop blaming yourself. I'm too tired to tell you how stupid that is."
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[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:12px; color: #162e70; font-weight:100; display:flex; flex-flow: row nowrap; height: 100%; [/class] [class=whut]background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, #bdbab5 2%, #7c7d7d 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #bdbab5 2%, #7c7d7d 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, #bdbab5 2%, #7c7d7d 100%); padding:20px; [/class] [class=handsomedevil] border: solid 1px #e5e5e5; background: #fff; text-align: center; margin: 0 auto; padding:10px; color: #162e70; font-weight:800; flex: 1; -webkit-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6 ; -moz-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; font-size:12px; [/class] [class=speaks] -webkit-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6 ; -moz-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; font-size:12px; ;padding:3%; text-align: left; background:#fff; border: solid 1px #e5e5e5; flex: 1; flex-basis: 30%; margin-left: 40px; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=speaksup] color: #161832; -webkit-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6 ; -moz-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; font-size:50px; word-spacing: 4px; letter-spacing: 5px; ;padding:1%; text-align: center; background:#fff; border: solid 1px #e5e5e5; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=speakeasy]border: solid 5px #f7f7f7; letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: center; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #162e70; font-weight:100; background: #fff;[/class] [class=speakeasy2] letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: LEFT; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #162e70; font-weight:100; letters-spacing: 3px; word-spacing: 2px;[/class] [class name=handsomedevil maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px[/class] [class name=biggie maxWidth="800px"] padding: 0px; margin: 0 auto; flex-direction: column;[/class] [class name=speaks maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; margin-top:20px[/class] [class name=bye maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class]
[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]"To go wrong in one`s own way is better than to go right in someone else's." [/div]


𝘕𝘐𝘒𝘓𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘈𝘔 𝘝𝘖𝘚𝘚
[div class=speakeasy2]LOCATION — Hampton Inn, 4th Floor
OOC: nnnn...
INTERACTING WITH: Angel Boi Hell0NHighWater , Quiet Nice Girl Steel_427
BGM — THE FLAMING LIPS - DO YOU REALIZE??[/div]


[div class=speakeasy]“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.” [/div][/div][div class=speaks]
"Voss....if you say that horseshit again, I'll definitely kick your ass all the way down to the first floor. This isn't your fault, you didn't know she'd do that. And it's not like you asked her to throw me through a wall." The blond part-time devil didn't respond to this. Not because he didn't want to, but because he felt that he was given so much slack for all the amount of 'wrong' he was. When he felt nervousness creep up his bones, she had been there. He couldn't rightly say that wasn't connected. And in his current state, he couldn't rightly agree that he deserved this sanctuary from the other man. This sanctuary of thought, of reassurance.

Rhys hadn't seen his nightmare. The only one who had witnessed it was Penny. There were dark things that lived within him, dark delights that made a weak boy of the strong man that had survived this long without the falter he now had in his step.

Because he didn't know how to reconcile who he was, and what he wanted to do. A kind man, honestly, who cared a great deal for those he loved, he had had a family, a normal life. And now here, after the world had been burnt to ash from hellfire, he was something else. It felt almost like a disease he had contracted. Whether it was his fault for being touched by the macabre or not, something had caused it.

As always, he thought he had done it. As eager to take the blame as Penny and Rhys were to fling themselves upon their own swords to save all the rest. Nik was a glutton for punishment in many ways. One major defining character flaw that he'd probably grapple with for the rest of his days.

Though he wished he didn't have to.

"Don't. You give her the send off she deserves." Nik let out a deep sigh, the kind that ends in some sort of wayward mouth sounds, not unlike Henry would've produced with a goofy grin on his face. But Nik didn't have a grin, just a sweep of exhaustion coloring his visage.
"If you burn that photo without saying goodbye, you'll regret it more in the end." The blond raised his strong brow, and cast a gaze to Rhys. Nik had resumed nibbling on his lower lip, but listened to his advice, though his expression spelled that he didn't like what he was hearing.
"Get her to leave peacefully, as peacefully as you can. Just....promise me you won't forsake her. There's almost nothing worse than having someone you love turn their back on you."

"When someone you love hurts others that you love, even when they don't know what the fuck they're doing, you can't give them a free pass. Even if she's confused, she was always smart enough to know what not to do," the blond said, his free hand on his forehead, staring towards the ground.

"Maybe you're right. I...she deserves a good send-off. But I don't know if she'll let me do that for her. She may be too busy trying to kill you," he said with a dry smile. He was right, to be honest. Diana did deserve more than just a burnt photo and a bookend to her life steeped in confusion and pain. But Nik was also right: she'd try to hurt him. Perhaps all of them. And having a pissed off uber-ghost ex-fiance hovering around trying to axe people was another added danger to the group that he didn't want to entertain.

Nik hadn't missed the mild linger of the young woman's gaze on his face, but chalked it up to kindness. His barometer was usually pretty finely tuned, but at this juncture, it was a mute four out of ten on the perception scale.

He was tired, this had been a constant series of obstacles, repeated pain and trauma flung their way by either an apathetic God or a sadistic Satan. He didn't know quite who or what was pulling the strings, but the sheer amount of challenges thrown at their little group seemed to be more than he had ever faced alone.

It seemed suspect.

Then again, maybe safety in numbers was just a double-edged sword, he thought. More people, more noise, more warm bodies to draw more darkness.

He shook his head at the thought, then his mind wandered to the brief moment of respite he had earlier with the whitelighter. A glimmer there, something sweet, something that felt natural like the deep blue ocean on a brushstroke of rocks. Though he had his fears of the deep, as anyone really would considering the amount of shit he had slogged through in his lifetime, there was something there. Something good, and whole, and...needed.

Time with James, laughs and their fast friendship, that was something. Time stitching up Alaska's ankle, they had played off of each other, such a bright moment. Time spent with Penny, who would possibly save all of them through sheer willpower alone. Little glimmers. Important people, whose hearts beat within the maze of his mind, behind walls of thick darkness, twisted and gnarled, misshapen.

Even Velska's barking was a glimmer, she cared enough to yip her concern.

Nik could hold onto those, and keep steady.

"Are you guys okay?" Daisy spoke, asking a rather heavy question that he didn't quite want to respond to in its fullest, finely-detailed gorey glory.
"Yes. Just a lot of shit in rapid succession. Didn't expect a ghost ex-fiance to cockblock me or try to mangle this one, either" he said, marginally amused. He looked over the young woman with a thin smile, eyes playing with as much light as afforded to him in that moment.

"I'm sure you've been through a lot of shit too," he said his smile extending to the token half-smile, a curl of the lip, a flash of teeth, for just a moment. Nik was trying to let her know he understood how rough this brave new world made it for everyone, he hoped she'd get that.

"Seems like you've held your own though. Admirable," he offered, then swept his hand through his messy hair, absent-mindedly.

Rhys was patting the bed with his arm, and Nik chuckled low in the chest. He was also attempting to command the blond, which the part-time devil found endearing, and funny.

"Nik." The blond grinned and stood up from his seated position, wielding the pipe in his hand, to twirl it in the air, his gaze never leaving the whitelighter all bundled up and needy. This was endearing, he liked being needed.

"Niklas fucking Voss if you don't get your old gay ass up on this bed, I swear to the lord I will drag you up here myself. I know you can fucking hear me, you aren't deaf yet, so hurry the fuck up."
"Oh, you're so damned demanding. And I'm not old, nor...well...maybe I am a bit old," he said with a sigh, relinquishing to admit that he was later on in his years than he would've liked.

"Yes, yes princess. Alright, alright," he said as he walked across the floor with light steps, his gait light if a bit graceful. Again, the whitelighter patted the mattress and Nik let out a short laugh, before sidling to his side and looking down at him with an amused smirk.

"Nik." The other man rolled over and held out his hand, which the part-time devil took, placing the weapon to lean against the bed in case they'd need it. He crawled underneath the covers as the hand guided him in, and shuffled to pull the blanks over himself. It was warm. He enjoyed this closeness, there was nothing like laying next to someone you cared for, watching them in soft repose.

"Please stop blaming yourself. I'm too tired to tell you how stupid that is."
"Sorry, I know I'm an idiot sometimes," he said in a quiet tone, rolling onto his own stomach to drape an arm over Rhys' back, his fingers curling to grasp the other man's side, and pull him a bit closer.

"...this is nice," he said plainly, then turned his head to look over the young woman, offering her a look of sympathy. They were just going to cuddle. This was what it was going to be. And it would most likely be awkward for her, which he was aware of. But Rhys needed him, to sleep, he guessed.

The other man deserved a rest, and lord knows Nik did too. But he didn't want Daisy to be the only one guarding them as they passed out. Despite Nik being also exhausted, although not equally tired—he bet—compared to the man whose back his arm was draped over. He'd need to be vigilant. His tired eyes waned in exhaustion, blond lashes fluttering closed, but he forced them open every so often.

So much adrenaline had rushed through his veins earlier, and now, the crash.

"You're too comfortable, and this is making it difficult to stay awake," he said as he pried his eyes open, taunting the whitelighter but also complimenting him in one fell swoop. Who knew what awaited them in the future, or the near future? Nik could sleep like the dead, and he would, if offered the chance to.
[/div][/div]
[/div]

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

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[/div][/div]

[div class=statusText] Location: Hampton Inn 4th floor
BGM: Social Climb
Interactions: Prince of Assholery BasiliskVeranda |Teenage Flower Steel_427
[/div]

[div class=statusText][/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
"When someone you love hurts others that you love, even when they don't know what the fuck they're doing, you can't give them a free pass. Even if she's confused, she was always smart enough to know what not to do," Rhys frowned a bit at his words, mouth parting to fire back something in this ghostly stranger's defense when Nik continued on with his thought.
"Maybe you're right. I...she deserves a good send-off. But I don't know if she'll let me do that for her. She may be too busy trying to kill you."

He shrugged from under the mountain of covers, as if that little fact of possible death didn't bother him any.
"Something tells me she wouldn't hurt you purposefully." His gaze remained on the blond, a bit pensive and tired, but mostly...supportive. It wasn't something he could decide for him, but Rhys felt that this was important not only to Nik, but to the ghost of the woman who was trapped here. Growing up Catholic, he had heard so many stories about what happened to the soul after death. The evil were sent to hell, tormented for eternity, the righteous were greeted into heaven, and those who could not find their way remained trapped between this world and the next. It was not a fate he would wish on anyone.

"Just try and talk to her. It's the right thing to do."

Rhys curled further into the blankets, listening with vague interest as Nik responded to Daisy. He was staring at the crack in the headboard, running a finger down the jagged edge absently. "Oh, you're so damned demanding. And I'm not old, nor...well...maybe I am a bit old," A grin spread across his face, chuckling lightly into the pillow as he rotated his position to see him a bit clearer. There was something in his gaze that glimmered with mischief, an intimidate sort of tilt to his mouth that was reserved for this man alone. "You like it when I'm demanding." His words were whispered, almost purred in a way that no sixteen year old observer should probably hear. If he hadn't been on the verge of falling asleep already, then he might have been more aware of the teenage flower standing innocently a couple yards away. "Yes, yes princess. Alright, alright," The bed dipped as Nik situated himself on the other side and Rhys turned his head more to face him, smile shrouded by the pillow. "Nice of you to listen to me for once, Farm Boy." His voice was muffled by the fabric of the pillow as his fingers intertwined with Nik's.

"Sorry, I know I'm an idiot sometimes,"

He winced slightly as Nik draped his arm across his back, the movement causing a hiss to slip form his lips but he didn't bother to pull away. He wanted to be close to him, no matter the level of discomfort. Rhys hummed in response, closing his eyes as he concentrated on the feeling of being so close to someone that it was comforting in a way that he hadn't experienced in a very long time.
"...this is nice,"

Rhys took a slow breath, making a noise of agreement as the lingering pain in his back began to fade rather quickly. He opened an eye to look at Nik curiously, there was something like red saturated velvet that seeped across his back. It numbed the ache, coiled around the burn in his chest and extinguished it. The tattoos on his back pulsed dimly, a mesh of power blue and blood red curling around each individual feather. The result was a soft purple glow that gave him enough relief from the pain that he could sink deeper into the other's hold. It was like his nerves had been cut from feeling, but not in a way that was worrisome. It allowed his muscles to relax and for that, he was immensely grateful to the afflicted.

"It is...thank you...for taking the pain away..."

He wondered absently if Nik even knew what he was doing, but the fatigue that washed over him kept him from articulating the thought further. Just as quickly as it had started, the heat of the afflicted powers pulled back into a dull simmer. A sigh left him and he hummed completely content now, in this bed, wishing that he would never have to leave it again. The blanket of sleep tugged him deeper as his mind began to drift away.

"You're too comfortable, and this is making it difficult to stay awake."
"......nowt my porwblem, Nik. Just....think about me naked...or...somfing."

His consciousness was pulled under yet again, not aware or even realizing that he had managed to get a reply out. The world was in a haze and in the back of his mind he wondered how Penny and Ryan were holding up against the blob. He assumed that they would take care of it, Penny was reliable enough that if anything were to happen to him...he didn't think that he needed to worry. His hand tightened on Nik's subconsciously, his breathing and heart rate slowing into the patterns that were typically associated with sleep.

His last thought was one of worry before the dreams hit.
[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#242c38; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #b5b7b7; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:2px dotted rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:2px dotted rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:2px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: ##2a4047; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px solid white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]

 

[Lakyr]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][/div][div class=statusText]Location: Old Hampton Inn 1st Floor
Interactions: Anise [/div][/div][div class=title]James[/div][div class=text]He had found himself a place to rest momentarily, sitting on the ground his back against the wall again, like he had done so often before. His head tilted back pressing against the cold wall as well, eyes closed, taking a breath. Taking a break. There would've been more comfortable places to sit down around him, but for some reason he liked it like this right now. The last few days have definitely been something and they all could've used some time to rest, calm down and actually get to know the rest of the group a bit more.

James' break only was a couple of seconds long, before it was interrupted by footsteps hastily coming downstairs. As he slowly opened his eyes to take a glance at the person coming down he saw Kayden coming down the last few steps and then throwing himself to the ground near the staircase. The other hunter seemed shook and exhausted, James couldn't make out if he was hurt. In one quick motion James stood up, alert right away.

With no immediate danger at hand as far as he could see, he strode to the side of the other hunter, eyes fixated on the stairs. But with nothing going to attack him from there, he crouched down at Kayden's side and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?" The concern conveyed with his voice also showed in eyes as he looked Kayden over quickly, not seeing any injuries except a reddened, lightly bruised neck. He gave the situation a few more seconds before he let his lips curl into a small smirk. "You look like you saw a ghost." His tone was just in the faintest bit mocking, but more so understanding and friendly. James patted Kayden on the shoulder and held out his other hand to help him up, when standing up himself. [/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#000000; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #FFFFFF; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: #000000; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px dotted white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][/div][div class=statusText]Location: Old Hampton Inn 4th Floor
Interactions: BELIAL. [/div][/div][div class=title]Ryan[/div][div class=text]Ryan saw Penny nod at his short explanation and they started their search, opening doors quickly glancing in to see if there were anybody's remains. Just as he closed a door and watched around the hallway again, to make sure no wraiths were floating their way, Penny spoke. His attention shifted to her a bit, but he still kept lookout whilst she opened to doors, nothing. They kept walking towards the next doors, Penny kept talking, addressing his earlier hunter comment. "Yeah?" Calm voice, firm grip on the iron pipe, eyes searching for any movement.

The next door Penny tried was locked, could be something. Ryan answered her curious look with lightly surprised one, a gleam of hope was there to see, hope that they might be getting rid of this ghost easily. He made a faint gesture for her to go ahead and she spoke, kicked open the door and then finished her sentence raising an eyebrow at him. He had no time to answer before she rushed into the room, so the only reply she'd get for now was his smirk and a face mockingly saying ' Maybe'.

The first thing he noticed stepping into the room was the god-awful smell, making him flinch as he stepped in. In one corner of the room was a big, black mass, which seemed to spread out into the room from there. In the middle of the black mold was lying a skeleton. Ryans moved his look over to Penny as she muttered the name and then he let his eyes wander back onto the corpse.

"There he is… bring any matches?" Ryan touched his different pockets, feeling for the box of matches he had kept around. Just as salt these could be helpful at times so he had picked them up and every now and then made use of them. He finally found the box and got it out of the pocket it was hiding in. Pressing it open with his thumb he saw he didn't have many matches left. His other hand went pocket diving for the salt.

"To what I was saying, you know, maybe it was a slip of the tongue and I’m overthinking it… but if anyone were to be a part of an illustrious and secret society… I’d peg you for bachelor number one." Ryan sprinkled the corpse with salt as she spoke and he saw her smirk and the crossed arms out of the corner of his eye. She put a lot more thought into it then he had done when he made the comment. That was something he made a mental note for, this wasn't a problem but he would have to be more careful with those small remarks.

"And I mean, I don’t know anything about these guys, so really, it could be all bullcrap… but you’re a mysterious, well equipped—" He lit the match, closely listening to her observations and statements.

"—and knowledgeable person on this kind of thing. I’m just observing." Nodding he threw the burning match at the corpse and it was slowly set aflame. Ryan turned to look at Penny the room now illuminated in weak and flickering orange light. "Maybe I just liked the History Channel Specials about them?" He shrugged playfully but then he looked to the ground. "No, yeah, hunters are real. I was personally never a huge fan of the main secret society though, always felt like the ones in charge had sticks up their arses. Got thrown out, more or less." He looked up again, into her eyes with a flicker in his own and a renewed smirk himself. He was interested to see how easily she would believe him. "Oh, wait, right..." He took the glove off his right hand and held the held the hand out in the small fire's light to show her the hunter's mark upon it. "That's a hunter's mark, every hunter got one. I know this doesn't prove anything, but..." He didn't have anything more to say about it so the sentence faltered and he just smiled a bit.[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#000000; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #FFFFFF; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: #000000; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px dotted white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]

 

[BELIAL.]

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[/div][/div] [div class="PennyDreadful"] PENELOPE VALE[/div] [div class="TextityText"]
Watching the fire burn would have been peaceful, were it not for the lingering fear that another spirit would swamp out of nowhere (see: Diana) and fly in for the attack. As well, if the room wasn’t mangled by the odour of now burning mold—which really, really, was a lovely smell. She crinkled her nose, looking between the burning bones and Ryan as he spoke. She watched the reflection and shadows dance on his face in the darkened room, lit only by death and her fire.

She pulled her arms closer, analyzing him as he spoke. “Maybe I just liked the History Channel Specials about them?” He asked, ever so playfully, and the ghost of a smile danced on her lips. Her smile faltered when she saw Ryan look at the ground and continue. “No, yeah, hunters are real. I was personally a huge fan of the main secret society though, always felt like the ones in charge had sticks up their arses. Got thrown out, more or less.” He looked back up at her, and she cocked her head slightly in contemplation.

What reason would there be to lie? Granted, the two hardly knew each other and if Ryan didn’t want to open his holy scripture and read it in front of the blessed in front of him, she wouldn’t blame him. She herself had her reservations, especially with strangers (or the potentially dangerous ones).

She returned the smile.

So far, the man in front of her seemed more like the brand of nuisance that Nik would breed than someone who could slit her throat in the uncomfortable space of this dark room. She looked back over at the flames quickly, her stomach clenching as another wave of smell hit her nostrils.

“Oh, wait, right…” Ryan said, and her head whipped back to him. She watched the man quickly remove the glove on his hand to reveal a darkened pattern. Some sort of tattoo. “That’s a hunter’s mark, every hunter got one. I know this doesn’t broke anything, but…” The man smiled a little again, and Penny furrowed her brows as she gazed intently at his hand. She hesitated physically, wanting to reach out and touch it. Rather, she stroked her own hand subconsciously.

“That’s something... huh,” She nodded, thinking aloud. She shrugged, looking back at him. “I mean, it’s no big deal. It’s something useful, but you know, so long as you don’t go doing weird cult stuff I’m hardly bothered. Don’t hold back on the weird cult stuff if it’s helpful, though. Like ghost-busting.” She let out a little laugh, and then held out her own arms.

“Since we’re showing ink now,” she laughed, and did a slow spin. “Your mark is something else, but how about your entire back and arms being consumed in a growing… and glowing… thing. Tattoo, maybe, but I didn’t have any before this whole Apocalypse happened. These are from being… blessed… or whatever the heck it is.” She rolled her eyes, casting another glance at Bob’s smoldering bones over her shoulder. They puffed and groaned, cracking into itself. Penny grimaced. She looked back at Ryan, standing next to him again, searching his eyes for some common ground.

“The way I see it? We’re all surviving. We’ve got nobody’s backs but each other’s, and that’s the kind of important thing I believe in. You could be a hunter, or you couldn’t. I could have Heaven’s blessing or have been pissed on them and given these consuming abilities. We make our own waves, especially now.” She placed her hands on her hips, giving a final look to the dying flames. Hopefully the hotel wouldn’t burst into flames… or that the two in room wouldn’t be diagnosed with something from the black mold on the walls (and now, in the air). She let her words die in the air, and she waited for whatever reply Ryan had. After it, she shook her head to clear her philosophical thoughts.

“Let’s clear out. I think the bones are charred enough, but I’m worried about you inhaling some of the black mold or this place burning down. Let’s pray that Bob’s somewhere entirely away from here by now.” She reached for a moth-eaten blanket on the bed and plopped it on the small flames, stamping it down with her foot. Straightening, she smoothed out her shirt. “Shall we?”

Penny turned on her heel and thanked the lord she’d be free of the awful smell in the room. She looked back at Ryan and sighed as soon as she remembered what would come next. She really didn’t want to deal with Diana, emotionally. Nik wouldn’t either, and he would suffer much more than her at getting rid of Diana. She frowned in thought, finding Ryan’s eyes as they left the room and she closed the door firmly (as much as one could after kicking it in).

She sighed again, shaking her head as they walked. “I’m really, really not pumped for what’s next. That ghost you saw earlier? That’s Nik’s fiancée… ex-dead-fiancée, as it happens. Her and I were close friends back then… and now… she’s trying to kill Nik and Rhys.” Penny ran her hand through her hair, shaking out the pony tail and putting it back again. “If you could be on the other side and make fun of me for tackling you again, I’d be super thankful for the distraction. Anything, really.” She smirked, which then melted into a grimace once again as they walked down the hall. [/div]

[div class="TinyLines"][/div] Interacting: Lakyr | Mentioned: Nik, Rhys, Diana, Ryan | Located: Old Hampton Inn, 4th floor [div class="TinyLines" style="margin-bottom:0px;"][/div] [/div] [/div]

 

[Chise_Robin_]

Alaska​

Location: Hampton inn first floor and just outside the inn
mentions: Lakyr Anise CupAndCough Lekiel

The flickering noise of fire comforted the young huntress. She sat on the chair with closed eyes enjoying the silence and the serenity of the haunted hotel. Footsteps indicated someone coming back in and sitting down as well, opening her eyes she smiled at how mentally exhausted James seamed. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by Kayden's voice. "the heck Just happened?"


Alaska and James were both on their feet in a matter of seconds " shit Kay! Are you alright?" she ran after James to where the other hunter was and chuckled softly at his remark. He did seam like he'd just seen a ghost with his face void of color. Alaska patted her old friend's shoulder with a sympathetic look on her face " it's over now... I hope?..one hell of a week wasn....." a thud interrupted her this time, she stood up and ran outside, panic making her heart race between her ribs.


" Fuck" the body of a witch they all knew too well lay in the snow, not too far from the other burning two. Her silver locks almost indistinguishable from the white blanket of snow. Her arms and legs lay at abnormal angles by her side and her wide open bloody eye holes seemed to be somewhat struck with fear. Alaska got closer, cautiously. She felt the palms of her hands sweating and a lump formed in her throat making it hard to breathe.


With shaking hands Alaska started to drag the young witch's body towards the fire; should anyone ask she'd tell them that she didn't want her soul to haunt this place, she didn't want her to become a ghost trapped in this fucking cruel inn for eternity, or worse.....She feared the young woman's soul would turn into a bell witch that would bring too much harm and pain and agony, and if someone were to help her, she wouldn't be able to look them in the eye as she worked.


The sound of her body being dragged against the snow, Alaska's footsteps, the heat radiating from the fire, the smell of burnt bodies all were reminders of the situation they were stuck at. Every time they felt a glimpse of normality, the apocalypse seemed to flip them all off, reminding her that it's still there.
Reminding her, that no matter how many horrible deaths she witnessed, there still were worse ways to go....That one day, it might be her who'd be dragged towards a heap of burning bodies.


The fire sputtered, hungry for it's new prey. Alaska stood watching as it engulfed the witch, starting with her hair. She hugged herself tight, her stomach turning in her guts and fell to her knees next to the whispering flames unable to control the stream of tears that ran down her cheeks. Her eyes locked on the flickering flames, that looked as if they were engaged in a pagan dance. Another one of them had fallen, and she feared it was only a matter of time, till the others did.

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:12px; color: #162e70; font-weight:100; display:flex; flex-flow: row nowrap; height: 100%; [/class] [class=whut]background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, #bdbab5 2%, #7c7d7d 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #bdbab5 2%, #7c7d7d 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, #bdbab5 2%, #7c7d7d 100%); padding:20px; [/class] [class=handsomedevil] border: solid 1px #e5e5e5; background: #fff; text-align: center; margin: 0 auto; padding:10px; color: #162e70; font-weight:800; flex: 1; -webkit-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6 ; -moz-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; font-size:12px; [/class] [class=speaks] -webkit-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6 ; -moz-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; font-size:12px; ;padding:3%; text-align: left; background:#fff; border: solid 1px #e5e5e5; flex: 1; flex-basis: 30%; margin-left: 40px; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=speaksup] color: #161832; -webkit-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6 ; -moz-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; font-size:50px; word-spacing: 4px; letter-spacing: 5px; ;padding:1%; text-align: center; background:#fff; border: solid 1px #e5e5e5; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=speakeasy]border: solid 5px #f7f7f7; letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: center; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #162e70; font-weight:100; background: #fff;[/class] [class=speakeasy2] letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: LEFT; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #162e70; font-weight:100; letters-spacing: 3px; word-spacing: 2px;[/class] [class name=handsomedevil maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px[/class] [class name=biggie maxWidth="800px"] padding: 0px; margin: 0 auto; flex-direction: column;[/class] [class name=speaks maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; margin-top:20px[/class] [class name=bye maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class]
[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]"To go wrong in one`s own way is better than to go right in someone else's." [/div]



𝘕𝘐𝘒𝘓𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘈𝘔 𝘝𝘖𝘚𝘚
[div class=speakeasy2]LOCATION — Hampton Inn, 4th Floor, Safe Room
OOC: Wrapping this up so we can move, basically.
INTERACTING WITH: Angel Boi Hell0NHighWater , Quiet Nice Girl Steel_427

....Diana.

BGM — DIANE CLUCK - EASY TO BE AROUND

Ahhhh send-off MARISSA NADLER - THINKING OF YOU [/div]









[div class=speakeasy]“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.” [/div][/div][div class=speaks]
"Just try and talk to her. It's the right thing to do."

The blond knew it was the right thing to do. He knew that the freedom he experienced during his nightmare made it painfully, painfully clear that it was the right thing to do. She deserved it, but also, in the deep pit of his stomach, he felt sour.

He had made peace with her being dead long ago. Inert, an inert memory, a slideshow of warm times colored in orange light-leaks, of deep red lips, wind-whirled hair, and laughter on roof-tops with drinks in hand. Of smoking joints in central park, of running circles through Queens, of eating hearty soups and laughing. Of laughing, and laughing, and her fingers between his own as he pressed his face to her neck, and saw her feline brow arch from the corner of his eye, and beautiful mouth open.

The only woman he had loved like this. He had put her on a pedestal, but one she rightly deserved.

Of her wearing his shirts, padding around the flat to ruffle his hair as he painted. Of tattooed fingers on his throat, a coy smile on her lips, of talking. So many words filling up the air, stories of their lives, dreams she had woken up to in a tizzy. Of everything their future had held, of the child on the way, a little girl, he had hoped she'd look like her mother. And not carry the mental or emotional baggage he slogged along through life with.

He had made his peace when she burned to cinders. Now he had to pull the wound apart and stick his fingers in just to get the bullet out he thought he had already removed.

Selfishly, he didn't want to. Realistically, he knew he had to.

"You like it when I'm demanding." He couldn't argue with that. It was an attractive trait, and in some stupid way, it made him feel safe.

Under the covers, warm, safe. Rhys still smelled like sage and rosewater, and it stung his skin to be this close. It had gotten worse recently, since their showdown with Actually Freddy Krueger, that uptick in holy power not doing wonders for the afflicted's nerves. It bit through them, he felt it, but the blond didn't care.

"Nice of you to listen to me for once, Farm Boy." Nik smirked, wondering if Rhys was intentionally making a particular joke, but he couldn't be certain.
"Me? Listen to anyone, ever? Inconceivable!" he said with a half-smile, eyes bright with the joke he hoped Rhys knew the reference to.

"It is...thank you...for taking the pain away..." The blond narrowed his brows, then shifted to look at Rhys' face. The blond felt the transfer, the tick, the change, the blood swirling. All these gifts felt foreign until he realized he had them. Nik knew very well that he could induce pain, but he had never used it to take it away. Not consciously, anyways. It was the same problem with the telekinesis. Still there, but locked away, he guessed. If he had known specifically he could do this, work on Alaska's wound at the market would've gone down much more easily.

He had never been taught how to do any of this. Being touched by hell didn't come with a bloody manual. The Witch in Queens, he guessed, hadn't quite educated him enough. He didn't blame her, she had been more concerned with keeping him there as a plaything. Best to keep him fairly ignorant, then he wouldn't run away.

But he had run away, from her fiery hair and touch. Because to care that much, so early in his journey, had been too difficult. Nik, always the asshole.

"...happy to help, princess," was all he said, because it was complicated to know he could actually help, and not just hurt. It was strange, because he thought he was a human wrecking ball. Something made of the deep black waters, nothing pale and perfect like moonlight. Not like the one at his side, not like his Light in the Dark, not like any of that. Made of the worst things, none of them particularly good. Beautiful darkness, and all that rot was, indeed, beautiful.

But tainted.

Even with their own demons, even seeing Rhys' nightmare, even with all that had happened, they were light and he was shadow. A shadow with a smile, but he tried. Trying counted for something, he felt. And so he'd try again, a fallible man, trying.

Nik didn't know how to articulate these feelings and thoughts, so he just smiled, then turned away after gazing at the other man's face for half a century.
"......nowt my porwblem, Nik. Just....think about me naked...or...somfing." The blond let out a soft rolling laugh, soft because he realized that Rhys was passing out.

"That's bad advice," he noted with a smile curling the corner of his mouth. His eyes were heavy, he was tired, this was...nice. Calm, a stillness here. But...he felt he had work to do. Actual work to do. To give her just one last send-off, before the pair going on a ghost busting mission perhaps burned her photo to cinders.

When Rhys' hand laxed from gripping his own, the blond slipped away, gracefully, shifting out of the comfort. He had done this before many times, when Di had been knocked out, dead tired, and he was inspired to create something. In the late twilight hours, it would strike, and he'd slink away like he hadn't even been there in the first place. The only reminder was the warmth on the bed, she never woke up, until he came back again with cold limbs.

She'd make a face, though asleep, and grumble her discontent in a serious of dreamy cuss-words.

Heat rose in his face, his blood pumping, anxious. One last send-off. One more old wound ripped apart. Just one more, just right now, because she deserved it.

"Daisy," he said low, under the breath as he approached her, "I have to take care of something. I'm just going to step outside, but I'll be around the corner...Keep the weapon here," he said, eyeing where he left it, against the bed.

"I'll be fine. But if I'm not back in 30 minutes, feel free to...I don't know. Say a fuckin' prayer, come play hero, wake up the sleeping beauty. Whatever. All I know is that I have to do this, before it's too late," he shifted away from Daisy's side and opened the door, stepping carefully over the salt line. He still had some salt in his pocket, a spare bit. If any other specter came near, he was sure she'd protect him.

And even still if he was injured, in the back of his mind, that wasn't a problem. For as selfish as he was, and although he didn't have a death wish, he didn't think he was worthy of saving. Still. Still not worthy of it, despite the people he cared for telling him otherwise.

It was a hard habit to break, as hard if not harder than the nicotine crutch, which now had him biting at his lips again.

--

He hadn't needed to go very far at all, just a bit out of the room, near an open laundry shoot, and a broken-down vending machine. One of those fancy ones that looked like a baroque fixture, with the discreet barcode scanners, lattes made to perfection, chips, cigarettes, everything. But empty, of course, busted out, random boxes there, and broken glass that crinkled beneath his shoes. Modern technology was all about convenience, but also, the air of pristine perfection, in many ways. Now broken, dead, and just another hunk of metal.

His gaze lifted when he heard a hum in the air.

He saw her feet first, bare, long legs drawing up to a high-cut deep blue dress, like his eyes. Her hands at her side, hair strewn about as though she had been through a wind-tunnel. She looked at him with bright eyes, a red smile, feline eyes large and overwhelmed. She ran to him, flickering through the veil, her form smudging across the air. She grasped his hands and he stood there, frozen, his eyes glassy.

"Ah...ah," her mumbled tone fettered through the air, but he knew what she was saying. Her 'skin' was cold, and she clutched his hands, then placed her hands on his shoulders, to press her forehead to his own. To hum, and fawn, and gaze at his face, lovingly, like it were any other day they were together. But it wasn't.

"I know. I've missed you too," his words were like thin glass, hollow in the center, he was treading lightly. His hands were raised but not holding her, shaking hands, hovering on her form, the woman he never thought he'd see again. No longer a woman, now a piece of a memory, but a memory with a soul, twisting inside her brightly, she could feel. She could feel, and she was here, and she was so close, and yet, so far away. He swallowed, hard, and choked on what words to say.

Because soon the dam would break and he'd be crying on a ghost's shoulder. He needed to stay strong as he explained just what was happening, he knew now, she just didn't know. She just didn't know. Because she danced like they always danced, and she was unafraid, and she was bright and lively, as lively as she ever was. If she knew what had happened, she wouldn't be so light, airy, and free.

"I didn't know you were here, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't notice." The words came out half-choked, but he maintained control of them, hands shaking, but gaze soft on her features, warm, a smile.
"Mhm..." he knew what that meant too. He closed his eyes, and said nothing for a time, trying to think of how to word everything. To string it together, to make it make sense for her. His jewel-toned ghost was humming a sweet song, airy and haunting, but beautiful. Almost like a mother's hum, it cascaded across the walls, dull and light, almost like a deep dulcimer.

"...you're stuck here. You know that, right? It's going to get worse..." she pulled away, linked fingers with him, and he looked into her eyes, and his heart broke in half. His face fell, and her humming stopped, her gaze confused. Her bright red mouth twisted as she didn't understand, mulling over her lips, eyes tracing over his form, as though what he were about to say was the worst of news. The most terrible of news. And it was, it was turmoil.

"The...anger. Shit, I mean, I—I don't know what to say...you were always better with fuckin' words than I was," she hummed and lifted his hand in the air, deciding for herself to ignore it. She smeared across the air like a beautiful brushstroke, to spin in place, her form blurring in blues, in a dance, happy. She was happy. Happy.

"Ah...mm," she verbalized, and again, he knew what she was trying to tell him as she careened to dance, pulling him forward. Dance and flee, come back, twirl, flood around him, twisting, shimmering. Dancing with a ghost. Her tattooed fingers in his grasp as she spun, happy, light on her feet.

"I can't stay with you, Di..." she frowned and mumbled more tones, not unlike she would in sleep, confused, "No, stop, please," her brow quirked and offered a sound that must have been a laugh, "You're...gone, you know that, right? Think," she shook her head from side to side.

Diana fell into his arms, laughing, a musical laugh that echoed across the walls. She tried to spin again, to spin away and court him in a dance, playful, gentle, fun, a sweep of her form across the air, but...he stopped her.

His facade shattered and he wrapped his arms around her, to hold onto her tightly. Red coat blaring against her blue and white, brown strokes of hair and a curve of light across her form, like a blurry watercolor painting, bleeding on the edges of perception.

Concern flooded her clear features, this was serious. This was serious and she felt out of place, her eyes wide, wide as a frightened mare, and she shook her head in his grasp, and tried to pull away to look into his eyes. But he wouldn't let her see the damage.

"Di. Think. Where were we?" She tried to pry herself away but he held her closer, his mouth to the shell of her ear, speaking soft and low. She shook in his grasp, trying to free herself, it was a mistake. This was a mistake, he was wrong, it was wrong.

"Di, please, listen to me," she wrenched back, passing through his arms, and then stared as she did so, arms in the air, hands touching his coat. Disbelief colored over her face, she opened her mouth, unsure, and then slipped back in his arms. Diana pulled back again, her calculating gaze trying to make sense of what was happening—what had happened—to her.

Her form was solid once more, he clung to her, as she stood, inert. Still, back straight, as if she were crawling in her skin.

She started to break down, eyes wild, wracked with voiceless utterances that grew in tone and pitch. First, little warbles of 'no', but the vowel cut short. Then she made a dull thrumming noise, like a hum in the back of the throat. Finally, small shrieks, little noises that were like distant cries. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, she was cold, and his hot tears threatened to flee, but he kept them still.

"Think. We were..." She let out a yelp, and tried to pull away, but he kept her solid, somehow, he kept her contained. Not an ethereal visage, spindling in the air. In his arms, solid.

"A-aah...at a ....gallery s-show...c-celebrating..." she spoke, in as full words she could muster, her face dropping to the lowest low, the dawning realization was like a bullet through her heart. She stopped struggling in his shaking grasp.
"A-and, the...w-where's? Where's the..." she said, panicked, jerking back out of his reach once more, touching her stomach. Her hands began to shake as she searched her form. She clenched her dress and scratched with nails, eyes wild, there was nothing there. There was nothing there. There was nothing.

"Oh, oh...no..Our...m-my baby...where's..no, no..." she kept repeating the same word, over and over again, growing in pitch each time, more frantic. Nik wrapped his arms around her again and she shrieked against him, still trying to dig. To feel, to find, what was not there.

She fell, all the life in her draining, despite her not being alive any longer, she felt it. Felt it like a crack through her body, she was emotionally gutted, this specter. She fell down to her knees, and he fell with her, she was more than just wounded. She was devastated.

"N-nik..Nik...W-where's our—w-where's my baby?!" she screamed out a wail, guttural, the cry of a mother having lost her child. It was deafening, it was hellish, he had to be strong for her now, so she could move on. But it cracked up his spine. He had resounded a similar wail, when he had found them.

A father's turmoil. A...soon-to-be husband's turmoil. It felt worse than death, it felt like your lungs were breaking, and your mind was being torn to shreds. Ripped apart, chemicals bursting to make your eyes pour water and your hands run shaken, breathing ragged.

A loss so unfathomable it made men and women, who were otherwise powerful and strong, look and sound like shattered wind chimes, immolated, twisted on themselves, their arms clutching their own bodies, to reel. To reel from the shock.

She shook, shoving herself into his arms tightly, this tortured ghost, who just hadn't understood. He had said to burn the photo...because of what she had done. But more than that, so that he didn't have to see her like this. Have her suffer through this. Burdened by emotions, burdened to have to go through this and explain this to her.

"Hell came. It came, and it took you both. Then it came for me, and made me...wrong. It's been..." she snapped in two, her colors dulling and fading, clawing at the back of his coat with her constricted fingers, joints locked in place, "Di, it's been two years..." her arms were slung against him, digging forward, then back again, on her heels, sobbing, forward, and back again. Clawing, and rocking into his body, wailing out a guttural scream, shuttering against him like a piece of wood in a tornado. Folding into him, collapsing into his arms, taking ragged gulps of air and whimpering into his shirt.

"No...no, no...no...please..it's i-it's just a d-dream..," she stammered out, "It's not a dream, Di..I-It's not..." his voice broke, but he kept himself strong for the woman who had once been his entire world. She blurted out her plea like falling rain drops, light at first like on a pane of glass, then heavy into a muddied gutter, then a deluge like hail, "...it's..no, no, no, please...no, please....no."

He held her for what felt like an eternity, and then peeled back to stare at her, more solid and real than he had seen it so far, to look into her beautiful eyes, to trace his thumbs over her brows, and over her cheekbones, to hold her pale cheeks, to look with all the strength he could muster. To look at each little freckle, each pore painted in perfect detail, the whites of her eyes, a stray eyelash.

Everything, everything she was was here, but she was a specter. She wasn't alive. She pressed her hands to his own to hold her face again, and stared in disbelief. Abject poverty of joy wracking through her, wrenching her gut.

"I love you...do you really want to stay here, and watch me, and never get to be with me, not really?" She shook her head, brown hair shifting, her response, 'no'. Tears streamed down her face, her visage blurred and then refocused, horrified but listening. Devastated, but attentive. Eager to look into his eyes, and to have him truly, truly see her.

"Watch as I fall in love, live my life, while you can't...I. God damn, I'm...I'm so sorry, Di. I'm so fucking sorry I wasn't inside with you. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry...I'm sorry," he clung to her now, a grown man brought again to ruin, brought to being a child. She held her arms around him and buried her face in his neck, and cried with him, for the loss of their life together, the loss of their child, that she hadn't experienced before, as her life had been gone in what felt like a flash.

"I...the fire—" she muttered out through a wet mouth, in a harsh, petrified whisper. The feelings rolled over her like a barrage of hail on a broken shack, shaking in the wind.
"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..." Diana pulled back and held Nik's face with her bone-chilling hands, and stared up into his eyes, trying to stop him from falling apart any further. Trying to hold him together, with just her hands. Her shaking hands, her hands that were not real, no blood pumped through her body. Just the memory of blood, the memory of lips and eyes, of pores and freckles. An imprint of her upon reality, upon time and life itself. So strong was her love, that she had left a mark that had gouged time and space.

"...that man...w-who...? Your's...I...I'm s-sorry...S-shit wing-wingwoman, " she suffered to try to make a joke and a pained laugh, smiling through the tears staining her face. The tears dripped down to reveal transparency, one could see through the other side, like paint thinner over a pane of acryliced cellophane.
"Do you...?" her gaze queried his eyes, searching, desperate for a real answer.
"Yes," he responded instantly. Her mouth opened to his response, guilt washing over her features, because she had simply not understood. She didn't know that Rhys hadn't been a mortal threat.
"I'm...sorry—" She shushed him through her own tears, and shook her head, brown hair shifting.
"Silly man...l-life, each time, a new one comes...different. Never compare, but, new, bright, equal, they come...I h-had one, before you, d-did you know? Gone, like, like me...gone. Each one, new, different, but...Don't apologize, silly man, for...moving f-forward. While I've b-been stuck."

Even as a ghost, her sage wisdom, and her caring for this broken part-time devil floored the blond. She, a ghost, stronger, always stronger. The brightest star he had ever seen, a force of nature, the most fundamentally goddess-like woman he had ever known. A literal gift, he thought, to have touched his life and given him so many years of joy, laughter, friendship, love, hands and lips, and all the warm things most people only get to dream of.

But never truly ever touch.

"...you were always smarter than me," he said with a dry laugh, hands on her face as she held his face in her's. Her eyes met his and her brows lifting, he matched her expression, seeing each other fully, as they had seen each other before, but everything...had changed. Everything was different, and yet, the same. The same as before.
"L-leap first, think later. Unique, create, b-beautiful...I a-admired, a-always," she stammered out, giving him a smile but choking back a sob, persing her lip shut, to keep it from trembling.
"...I'm sorry I had...to tell you this...I'm sorry I didn't love you m—"
"No, no," she grasped his face tightly and bore her bright eyes into his own, shaking her head, her expression serious. The corner of her mouth twitched, not unlike his own often did, the emotions running through this soul unbound from her body, so fiercely.
"Stop. I..w-was ...lucky. To have a person. Care...unbelievable, unbelievable. The m-m-ost, ever...always." Nik shivered as the room grew colder, and then, it started to warm. Like a hearth was heating up, kissing his skin, his heart pounding in his head. Her fingers grew warmer, and the tears fell from her face, and peeled her away like paint thinner, a beautiful painting. The tears spilled down her lips, and she started to wash away.

The most beautiful woman, the most beautiful visage, an angel in her own right. An angel, even if Heaven hadn't deemed it so.

"Thank you for protecting me, Di. Thank you for, for loving me..."
"Thank you for...for loving....... .... ..m e."

She dissolved in his arms like thousands of little lights, sparkled dust and glimmers of blue and red, white and brown, like a comet's tail. They shimmered in the air, painting it glossy, like flecks of mica suspended in time. Glowed, shivering away, like the aurora borealis, warm, soft, glowing colors bleeding into the very air itself.

His arms were empty, held up in the air, and he sat there, staring, at absolutely nothing. At the space she had occupied. At the space she had been within, the space her soul had been within. Nothing, nothing.

Nik folded over like a willow, and held his arms around his body, and let it leave him as the gates opened, and his heart ached. Out, all of it, wracking his body, fingers clenched, forehead on the floor. An outpouring of that loss, that he hadn't fully felt before, because it was just her loss. Now again, all their losses, and his child, that had never gotten the chance to live her own life.

He had blocked out so much to start, to keep himself alive, and now was the time to feel it all. To feel it all, and again, and stronger. It crashed in waves, wave upon wave of anguish.

He was torment, embodied.

Loss, made flesh.

He couldn't ask anyone to pick up the pieces after this. It was too hard a job—his mind started to spiral towards once again, discarding himself. He was not worth all that love she had given him, even in death...

Then his conjured Henry's words came forward in his mind, to trust them, to trust himself, to let them be heroes, and to try again.

He pulled himself back up to sit, and stare at the broken-down vending machine. He stared for what felt like an eternity, deep circles under his eyes, drained, pale-faced, all the blood in his body sucked dry.

The machine made a strange clink and shuttered. The blond raised to his feet, shaken, slowly on wobbled legs, harrowed, and made his way to the machine. Each step of his smart shoes resounded, and scraped, for how heavy he felt. A box of marlboros popped from somewhere nebulous into the slot. He fished it out, and reached into his pocket to search for the lighter he knew he didn't have anymore.

And in the pocket he found...his transparent blue lighter, bits of salt clinging to the plastic sides. Left behind by the blessed woman, the ghost, the witch, the greatest loss in his life, she had returned it to him.

He struck up the lighter to light the cigarette he had now firmly placed between his lips, and stared off down the hallway. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Pale, eyes glassy, expression unreadable. The smoke hit the air, twirled like a prima ballerina, and licked the ceiling. But there was no little ghost to be found, no naturally colored beauty done-up in brushstrokes, no comely visage, no little utterances.

"Thank you," was all he said, before he turned back to the room Rhys and Daisy were within. But he didn't return just yet, he stayed by the door frame, collecting himself. Putting the pieces back together, with his eyes screwed shut, hand on the doorframe, the door closed, taking in deep breaths. He couldn't walk in there this disheveled. Everyone had their traumas, their difficulties, their challenges. He felt he didn't have the luxury of wallowing in this.

He fixed his hair with his fingers as best he could, supped on his cigarette, wiped at his face, and breathed.

He just breathed, in and out. She was gone, hopefully to a better place, and maybe, just maybe, they'd see each other again.

In the next life.
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[Hell0NHighWater]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][div class="imageBorder"]

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[div class=statusText] Location: Hampton Inn 4th floor
BGM: Casualty
Interactions: Prince of Assholery BasiliskVeranda |Teenage Flower Steel_427
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[div class=statusText][/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
There were birds somewhere. A distant chirping consumed by the roaring of traffic. He wasn't sure how this ambiance was here, perhaps drawn from a subconscious memory, but it shouldn't have been possible to hear things that were no longer there.

"You're dreaming, Emrys."

The voice floated across the fade, warbled, distorted, yet crisp enough to carry that bell-like chime. He turned his head to be greeted with the image of a woman he knew all too well. The left side of his mouth twitched for a brief second, arms folding in font of himself almost defensively. "No shit, sweetheart. I know what this is."
He turned away from her, back towards the window which stood as a single pane of glass in a white room without walls and a curtain that draped across the expanse of it. She made a noise, a slight bit of irritation coating the exhale of air. Her hair was done up into a bun, messy and haphazard, just how she usually wore it when she got home from work in the afternoon.

"Why are you here, Monica?"
"I don't know, Emrys, this is your dream isn't it?"

He cast her a sour look, not even realizing that she had moved to stand beside him at the window. It was his dream, but that didn't always mean he had control over it. He almost preferred a night terror to this...whatever this was. He didn't want to dream of her. There had been a time where that's all he had wished for, a night where the images of her death didn't plague him, a night where she was just as she was now. Beautiful. Happy. There were too few memories of that image though and for a while they had gone overpowered by the violence of her passing. Those wishful days were past though, he couldn't hold on to something that had never been. She had done enough damage in his life, he wasn't willing to allow her to do anymore. So he had let go and accepted what he could not change. She had been dead for three years...

He wasn't looking to bring her back. Not anymore. Not when he had someone to help him move on.

"We've established that fucking part already, doll."

She smiled, a quick flash of pearly white teeth under full lips. "Language, dear. We did, yet you still asked the question."
"And what question was that?"
"Some detective you are, Emrys--"
"Stop calling me that."
"--always one step behind when you should be looking ahead."

The curtain moved beside him, wind billowing it upwards as the shadows of birds flew past. He turned his attention back to the phantom, confusion twisting his features as he watched the way the fabric of the curtain flew out softly between them.
"You wanted to know if what that demon said was true."
He closed his eyes, running a hand across his face as he moved to turn away again, "Don't--"
"But you already knew the answer. Didn't you?"
He was quiet, watching the shadows of the birds fly past the curtain on silent wings.
"You're too good of a man, Emrys. You would have forgiven me and you would have raised that child as your own."

He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans, quiet for a moment before glancing towards the woman at his side. "Then perhaps you didn't know me as well as you thought you did."
The smile she gave him in return was almost blinding, "You say that, yet we both know that isn't true."
He didn't respond to that, in favor of pulling his hand from his pocket and towards the curtain. The curiosity to look behind it burned through him, but her voice caused him to pause the action for a brief moment, "Do you remember what my answer was when you asked if I loved you?"
Rhys turned his gaze towards her, lips drawn into a thin line. "The problem with wanting, is that it makes us weak."

She nodded slowly, "It was all lies, darling."
A smirk slid across his face, the fabric of the curtain clutched in a grip so tight his knuckles turned white, he shook his head as anger boiled up to the surface, "You were the first person I ever showed my heart to and you're the reason no one will ever see it again." Her hand slid across the side of his face, grabbing his chin to force him to look down at her. He wanted to pull away, but she held him there, gaze intent as they stood in the suffocating silence of that empty room.

"Now who's the liar?"

She pulled away and he turned back to the curtain. The fabric fell away and what he thought was a window, wasn't. He stood there, staring at his own reflection fractured into a thousand different pieces. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, as he --the one in the reflection-- pulled back the sleeves on his shirt and sank to his knees. White light flooded up his veins, illuminating his entire body in a way that he hadn't seen before. His head fell back in a scream, but there was no sound, nothing but the flapping of wings...


Rhys woke up up faster than a cat in ice-water, body lurching into a sitting position with a yell lodged in his throat. His azure gaze swung to his arms, checking them over eight times before he reached towards the other side of the bed only to be met with air. Cold. His brain hadn't caught up to the rest of the world, but panic had already reared it's ugly head. Wide eyes blinked twice, before he was pushing the covers away. The pipe was still here, propped against the bed and he reached to grab it, falling off the edge of the bed with a loud thunk. The sheets had tangled themselves around his legs and he hadn't had the opportunity or awareness to remove them. A string of curses flew past his mouth, syllables slurred still thick with sleep. His hair was a mess, the inch of dark curls were sticking up every which way but in that moment he really couldn't care less about how he looked.

"Where's Nik?" The question was more of a demand as he got himself to his feet, looking towards the teenage girl who must have been instructed to stay here while he slept. Nice of them to leave a body guard, but it wasn't necessary. Rhys wasn't usually a heavy sleeper so the fact that Nik had been able to slip out without him even waking up was a bit of a shock.
His mouth felt try and tacky, but he didn't have time to think about his borderline dehydration.

If she responded, he didn't hear her, already moving to open the door. He pulled it open and flew out into the hallway like a man possessed. The hand that wasn't holding the pipe like his life depended on it raked through tangled tresses. Azure orbs darted to the side, following a movement out of his peripheral. Nik stood beside the door he had just barged out of and Rhys felt himself instantly relax. The breath that he had been holding flew out as his shoulders slumped and the grip on the pipe relaxed.

"O-Oh...I thought...."
He cleared his throat, not sure what exactly it was that he had thought, but he had certainly been ready to take on an army of ghosts with a single pipe. Rhys blinked, his gaze hovering over the blond's face as he took in his expression past the distortion of cigarette smoke.

"...Are...you alright?" He winced at the question, it was obvious that he wasn't....but Rhys wasn't exactly all that great with his words. If he were, he probably would have been a poet instead of a cop.
[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#242c38; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #b5b7b7; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:2px dotted rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:2px dotted rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:2px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: ##2a4047; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px solid white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:12px; color: #162e70; font-weight:100; display:flex; flex-flow: row nowrap; height: 100%; [/class] [class=whut]background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, #bdbab5 2%, #7c7d7d 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, #bdbab5 2%, #7c7d7d 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, #bdbab5 2%, #7c7d7d 100%); padding:20px; [/class] [class=handsomedevil] border: solid 1px #e5e5e5; background: #fff; text-align: center; margin: 0 auto; padding:10px; color: #162e70; font-weight:800; flex: 1; -webkit-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6 ; -moz-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; font-size:12px; [/class] [class=speaks] -webkit-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6 ; -moz-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; font-size:12px; ;padding:3%; text-align: left; background:#fff; border: solid 1px #e5e5e5; flex: 1; flex-basis: 30%; margin-left: 40px; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=speaksup] color: #161832; -webkit-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6 ; -moz-box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; box-shadow:10px 10px 0px 0px #6e7db6; font-size:50px; word-spacing: 4px; letter-spacing: 5px; ;padding:1%; text-align: center; background:#fff; border: solid 1px #e5e5e5; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=speakeasy]border: solid 5px #f7f7f7; letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: center; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #162e70; font-weight:100; background: #fff;[/class] [class=speakeasy2] letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: LEFT; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #162e70; font-weight:100; letters-spacing: 3px; word-spacing: 2px;[/class] [class name=handsomedevil maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px[/class] [class name=biggie maxWidth="800px"] padding: 0px; margin: 0 auto; flex-direction: column;[/class] [class name=speaks maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; margin-top:20px[/class] [class name=bye maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class]
[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]"To go wrong in one`s own way is better than to go right in someone else's." [/div]


𝘕𝘐𝘒𝘓𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘈𝘔 𝘝𝘖𝘚𝘚
[div class=speakeasy2]LOCATION — Hampton Inn, 4th Floor, Safe Room
OOC: bee boo beep boop boop
INTERACTING WITH: Angel Boi Hell0NHighWater , Quiet Nice Girl Steel_427
BGM — PETER MURPHY - CUTS YOU UP [/div]

[div class=speakeasy]“The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.” [/div][/div][div class=speaks]
Rhys had busted through the door with an iron pipe in his hand, like a man on a furious mission. Nik flinched slightly, bristling, as he had been mildly startled and wasn't yet recollected. Still a puzzle piece trying to put itself together with shaking hands, but, it had been working.

"O-Oh...I thought...." the blond stepped back a bit and breathed out the smoke into the air like a perched gargoyle on a fogged night, or some demonic wraith flexing its foreboding powers. The eerieness came from his mute expression, he was unsure if he could muster words at this moment, and was looking over the other man's features.

His hair was an absolute mess, which caused the blond's smile to quirk up at the edge, and broaden into a full one. That'd be a nice memory to wake up to, he thought. Hair a mess, maybe he'd be the type to starfish when he slept. Spread out like a damn creature on a rock, hair flung about like he had walked through a tornado. Waking up to dreamy utterances, soft and warm. Instead of being kicked in the shin first thing in the fucking morning, as he had been.

Nik clung tightly in sleep, but would move if shifted. As though the person he slept beside would vanish into thin air if he didn't have skin contact. Penny had crashed one night after a particularly brutal day, and Nik still had her hand in his own as he slept. They had fallen asleep on the floor with blankets, and she had snored, a small snore. Tiny little sounds, almost a whimper but sweet. Comforting, her peaceful face relaxed and flaxen hair strewn about. That had been a nice memory. He had woken up before her that morning, and made omelettes. And the woman in his life thought nothing of it, as many others' blood would have curdled, and minds racing to put together the pieces. To concoct things that simply had never happened.

Friendship could be a deep blue ocean, it didn't have to be shallow or careful, because the thoughts had never crossed his mind to wander.

"Your hair's a mess..." he said through a smile, cigarette between his fingers, gesturing at the other man's head, "...in a cute sort of way", he said under his breath, a genuine statement, but he was still raw right now and traipsing any further into this new frontier felt too surreal.

"...Are...you alright?" Nik thought on if he wanted to be honest or cover it all up with a half-smile and a sarcastic comment. He pressed the cigarette to his lips, eyes fettering over the pipe in Rhys' hand, his stance, his expression. Like he had been jerked from his sleep, to go on a hero's journey, for what reason the blond didn't know. Or maybe didn't yet want to admit, or didn't want to assume. He shook his head, lips parting to let smoke trail in the air between them.

He considered lying, considered trying to put up a wall he often didn't have. But the conjured-self's—the stupid Brit, his eternal hero's—words came back to him. To trust, and to be trusted. To rely on new heroes, to be there, in the moment, and let go of what was before.

"If I'm honest, no," he looked down the hallway, worrying his lip with teeth despite having a fidget to occupy his mouth already, "Sent her off, it was rough explaining..." he scratched his hand through his hair, to the back of his neck, and sighed, "Explaining to her she was gone. It was....," Nik swallowed hard, mouth suddenly quite dry, and worked on collecting himself again for a beat of a moment. He shook his head, hair falling about, twisted and messy not unlike the other man's tousled look.

"Devastating. But, you were right. Deserved to know the truth, and get one last moment. I had wanted to spare her that, but...the truth fuckin' hurts, it always does, doesn't it?" the blond said, being metaphorically laid bare, all the little trappings of expressions flashing on his face in micro-second iterations. Struggle, shame, fear, guilt, sadness, joy, in a tangled mess. One he'd need to untangle, he'd need to deal with, as time went on.

Nik closed the gap between them and placed a kiss on Rhys' temple, hand to his shoulder, looking over his features. Trying to read what was there, to understand, to etch his face into his memory. Sometime in the future, if he had access to art supplies, paints and oils and brushes and all the like, he'd like to paint this man. Each of them, perhaps, but that was a pipe dream. He'd be too busy running, fighting, slaying to save his own life. As would the others, in this ceaseless deluge of war against anyone and anything that was not them, and aimed to do them harm.

Their little family, who he thought on, and he worried for. Hoping they were fine, and alive, hoping they were surviving.

"Doing better though. Finally being able to put the past to rest, means I can...think about the future," another boldly honest statement, the blond smiled through it. Eyes crinkling at the edges, cigarette back to his mouth, he rounded the other man to walk inside the room. He gave Daisy a two-finger salute, thanking her for watching the sleeping beauty. Hands over his head, he stretched, shoulders popping.

"...how was your nap?" he asked as he yawned, himself, very tired. Thirsty, hungry, and all assortment of discomfort. Emotional torrents often wielded drained results, and he surely was drained.

But here, surviving, and looking forward to some more glimmers of light to hold in his fist, things to keep and keep near, people to look on fondly. More soft moments. Maybe he'd braid Alaska's hair. He thought on James, and worried his lip again, a desperation piquing in him to wonder...to wonder if they were alright.

[/div][/div]
[/div]

 

[Lakyr]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][/div][div class=statusText]Location: Old Hampton Inn 4th Floor
Interactions: BELIAL.
BasiliskVeranda Hell0NHighWater
Steel_427 [/div][/div][div class=title]Ryan[/div][div class=text]His eyes wandered through the room, part of him still expecting the angry ghost to put up a last fight. Or that another specter would float in for an attack. But nothing like that happened, the room stayed quiet except for Penny's voice. Ryan looked back at her, a low chuckle rolling out of his throat at the mentioning of 'weird cult stuff'. Just imagining how some of the more devoted members of the Order would have reacted to that choice of words, perfect.

“Since we’re showing ink now,” His eyes narrowed and traced the tattoos dwindling down her arms as she held them out. The white ink made his skin crawl a little, engendering a feeling similar to the one he had when he first saw Penny, Rhys, and Nik, but it was easily shaken off. “Your mark is something else, but how about your entire back and arms being consumed in a growing… and glowing… thing. Tattoo, maybe, but I didn’t have any before this whole Apocalypse happened. These are from being… blessed… or whatever the heck it is.” Ryan listened closely and nodded, it made sense. Afflicted and blessed, they were counterparts, both gifted and cursed at the same time, but one's curse came from hell and the other one's from heaven.

"I have or am something like that as well. But it's black instead of white and came from something evil rather than a blessing." He met her eyes with a newly arrived glint of sympathy in his look.

“The way I see it? We’re all surviving. We’ve got nobody’s backs but each other’s, and that’s the kind of important thing I believe in. You could be a hunter, or you couldn’t. I could have Heaven’s blessing or have been pissed on them and given these consuming abilities. We make our own waves, especially now.” He liked the thought, never one to like the concept of fate, that something has planned every step out and nobody could change a thing about it, or that you were given a role. But sometimes it was hard not to wonder if they weren't just god's, or somebody's, lab rats and almost incapable of actually changing anything.

"That's a good way to see all of this, especially when you're with good people." The last words were hinting at his inherent mistrust in everyone since the world gone to hell, but he hid it well behind a friendly face and a small smile.

“Let’s clear out. I think the bones are charred enough, but I’m worried about you inhaling some of the black mold or this place burning down. Let’s pray that Bob’s somewhere entirely away from here by now.” Ryan wouldn't argue with that and waited as she stomped the fire out, it would be nice to get back to breathable air and the smell had only gotten worse since they had started burning the bones, which they had been lucky to find this easily. He just hoped the ghost wasn't bound to an object. “Shall we?”

"Sure. Bob should be gone, let's just hope he really is." He turned around whilst talking and was on his way to leave this room behind. He took in a deep breath as they stepped into the hallway and then sighed with relief.

They walked back the way they came, his eyes were on the hall in front but shifted to Penny as she sighed. “I’m really, really not pumped for what’s next. That ghost you saw earlier? That’s Nik’s fiancée… ex-dead-fiancée, as it happens. Her and I were close friends back then… and now… she’s trying to kill Nik and Rhys.” Ryan swallowed and cast his gaze downwards. "That's a tough one, ... I'm sorry." He looked back up at Penny, not knowing if he should say something else.

“If you could be on the other side and make fun of me for tackling you again, I’d be super thankful for the distraction. Anything, really.” He returned her smirk and then replaced it with a bit of a wider smile and he gave forth a short chuckle. "I'll do my best."

The two came around a corner, now near the room which was their destination, and saw Nik and Rhys just slipping back into the safe room. Ryan exchanged a glance with Penny. "Should we go check on them first?" He made his way to the room, walking quickly but not in a haste, and then he stepped into the room. He waited for a second until everybody had noticed that they had arrived. "We're done with Bob. Is everyone alright?" As he talked his eyes shot from person to person, Rhys, Nik, Daisy. [/div][/div][div class=text][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div][class=wrapper] background-color:#000000; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #FFFFFF; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: #000000; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px dotted white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][div class="imageBorder"]

[/div][/div]

[div class=statusText] Location: Hampton Inn 4th floor > 1st floor
BGM: Scary Love
Mentions: Reverie | Alaska | James
Interactions: Prince of Assholery BasiliskVeranda |Teenage Flower Steel_427 |The Real Hero BELIAL. | Mr. Helpful Lakyr
[/div]

[div class=statusText][/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
"Your hair's a mess...in a cute sort of way", Rhys blinked, a mixture of confusion and shock caused his jaw to go a bit slack. He brought up his free hand to slip it through unruly curls, scowling slightly, his eyes moved upwards as if trying to see what his hair looked like. His momentary vanity was disrupted by Nik's voice, "If I'm honest, no."

Rhys wasn't sure what he expected, but that certainly hadn't been it. The actual truth was....a nice thing to receive. In a way it meant that this man --beautiful and blighted in his own right--
trusted him; a damaged, deadbeat, convicted murderer with a morbid, if not vigilante, sense of justice. His trust was about as much of a relief as it was slightly concerning. It meant that the occurrences over the past couple hours weren't entirely just wishful thinking.

He didn't say anything for a moment, his mouth still dryer than the Sierra. Azure orbs watched him carefully, completely silent as he processed the events he had apparently missed. A part of him was vaguely irritated that Nik hadn't woken him up to tell him he was leaving. But...Rhys wasn't his keeper and Nik was a grown ass man. He didn't have to tell him anything. The fact that he was even telling him this much was more than he could have hoped. A huff of hot air left him, worrying his bottom lip as the blond continued to recount his interactions with his dead fiancee. Rhys didn't want to interrupt, but also he had no idea what to even say. He swallowed, throat thick, words caught somewhere between his brain and his mouth. In a way, he didn't really understand as much as he would have liked to. Looking back, most of his own relationships ended up one sided. He loved too much, too fiercely, and it left him broken each and every time. He tended to keep his heart close because of that and being open --as open as Nik was being in this moment-- was something that terrified him to the core.

"Devastating. But, you were right. Deserved to know the truth, and get one last moment. I had wanted to spare her that, but...the truth fuckin' hurts, it always does, doesn't it?"

His lips pulled into a flat line, looking off toward the opposite wall, not really seeing anything. He knew how bad the truth could be...what people didn't realize was that telling someone that their family member or loved one had been killed was a torment of its own. It had been his job to deliver news like that. To watch day after day as people grieved their friends, lovers, daughters, sons, sisters, brothers, mothers, and fathers. In the beginning, he had tried to put it as gently as he could, to spare the details. Those white lies were often worse than the blatant reality. "The truth's a bitch, but better than the whore of a lie."

He fixed the man with a slight smile, soft and probably more sincere than he showed to anyone else. Rhys was about to say something, something that in his own way might have shown Nik that he'd always be here for him, but the blond's sudden movement forward derailed his carefully crafted pep talk. Lips pressed gently against his temple and Rhys felt his face go red almost instantly. Heat flushed across his cheeks in splotches, a rosy pink tinting the tips of his ears and flooding down his neck below the collar of his shirt. He didn't blush pretty, not that many people did.

"Doing better though. Finally being able to put the past to rest, means I can...think about the future."
His mouth opened and closed a couple times, a strangled noise lodging itself in the back of his throat. He was unable to do anything but stare as Nik moved past him and back into the safe room. He turned his head to watch him go, feet rooted to the carpet in the halls. Speechless.
There hadn't been many people who could do that, not to this length, but apparently all Niklas Voss had to do was show him affection. Rhys wasn't too sure how he felt about that and prayed that the other man hadn't noticed him practically self-destruct.

He covered his mouth with the back of his hand, looking down at the hideous decal of the carpet in an attempt to collect himself. There were so many emotions knotting in his chest that it made it hard to breathe. The future was something he used to think about all the time. Used to worry over it, obsess, try to control it, but there was no controlling the future in the long term. It took a fuckin' hell gate to open in New York to teach him that. After a handful of seconds he dropped his arm and moved into the room after Nik, watching as he stretched and yawned obviously worn out from the events of the past day.

"...how was your nap?"

Rhys placed the pipe by the door and strode across the space in a second, grasping Nik to almost forcefully turn him around. He wrapped his arms around him, an arm clamping around his waist while the other cradled the back of his head. He had never been one for hugs or cuddles or any of those soft, squishy, moments but this man....this man, made him into a giant fucking teddy bear and he was surprisingly okay with that. He held him close for a while, almost scared that if he were to let go that he wouldn't be there.

"...fine, would have been better if I hadn't woken up...the way I had." He pulled away, referring to the dream that had left him thinking far too much for his own good. Looking at Nik in the dim light of that room, he realized that he was probably the last person in the world that deserved whatever it was that was blooming between them. It was such a dangerously fragile thing and he was prone to break things. This was one thing that he didn't want to break. He was so terrified of breaking it, of messing this up, that he told himself it might be better in the end if nothing were to happen at all. It was cowardly and cruel but it was safe.

If he stopped this now, he wouldn't have to worry about putting Nik above the rest of the group's well-being. He wouldn't have to worry about what the others might think. Wouldn't have to worry about what would happen when he was no longer himself, when the curse that rippled through his veins finally claimed him. And he wouldn't have to worry about his already fragile heart being trampled to dust.

His gaze shifted down to where his fingers had intertwined themselves with Nik's. Even subconsciously he had reached out to him. No matter how scared he was of this feeling, he couldn't let him go. The door opened and Rhys turned, the motion causing him to release his hand.

"We're done with Bob. Is everyone alright?"

Rhys looked from Ryan to Penny, slipping both of his hands into his pockets. "We're about as alright as could be expected."
There was a low grumble and it took the brunet a moment to realize it was his own stomach that made the noise.
The peanut butter hadn't been much of a meal to begin with and now that the ghosts were toast, it was apparent just how famished he was. Hunger didn't sit well with anyone and it usually drove people to do stupid things, things that he couldn't afford to impact the group. He moved over towards one of the chairs to sling his bag over his shoulder, "I think we should head downstairs. I'm sure the rest of the group would like to meet the newbies."

He cast Ryan and Daisy a slight smirk before walking out the door with his resumed aura of authority. As he walked, he made a mental checklist of what they needed to do.
Food was a big one. So was water. Then beds....there were plenty of those to go around. "I'm going to see what I can cook up in the kitchen, Pen, you want to see what you can grab utensil wise? There's gotta be someplace we can all sit down." Rhys looked back over his shoulder at her, heading down a different flight of stairs than the one that had held the rotting corpse earlier.

When he reached the first floor the first thing he noticed was Alaska and James coming in from outside. He was relieved that they were alright and took a moment to raise his hand in greeting before heading off in the direction of where he hoped the kitchen was. His stomach was practically calling the shots at this point and he wasn't going to argue.

The kitchen was pretty nice for a hotel, it came with all the basic appliances, though he doubted most of them worked. He dropped his bag on a counter, moving over towards a set of doors that he hoped to be a pantry. Twisting the handle, he pulled the door open and stepped inside, squinting past the darkness and trying to read the labels from the little bit of light that filtered in. Good thing they were doing this now, in a couple hours it would be pitch black out and he wasn't sure how visible this kitchen would be at night. There wasn't much of a selection. Half of this stuff was probably expired or rotting. His nose crinkled as if to confirm that last thought.
He grabbed at a couple boxes of spaghetti, mentally thanking whatever divine asshole was up there for having something here that he could cook.
He muttered something to himself, grabbing some more odds and ends that didn't look too complicated and put them on the counter before he went off to hunt for a pot. Hopefully the gas was still on, it would make this so much easier than asking Reverie to rig up a magic powered stove.
[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#242c38; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #b5b7b7; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:2px dotted rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:2px dotted rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:2px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: ##2a4047; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px solid white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]

 

[BELIAL.]

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[/div][/div] [div class="PennyDreadful"] PENELOPE VALE[/div] [div class="TextityText"]



“I have or am something like that as well. But it’s black instead of white and came from something evil rather than a blessing.” Ryan said, and Penny’s brows furrowed in thought before she had continued speaking. Of course, she figured that as dualistic as religion was that there would be an opposite to the curse that had been bestowed upon her. Someone had to be fucked by the devil as well. It made sense, all of a sudden. The itching that she felt, like an unnerved sensation beneath the skin when she was around Ryan and… Nik.

Oh no. Did that mean that Nik was… this sort of afflicted as well? The opposite to her and Rhys’s blessedness. Did being afflicted carry the same endgame that being blessed did? At the end, would they all be the same, thoughtless husks? The thought terrified her, especially that it would be someone she loved as much as Nik who was cursed in this way. She stomached it, however.

~~​

Seeing the way that Nik and Rhys were hunched over into their own bellies of sadness gave Penny an idea of what had already transpired. Part of her was a bit hurt that Nik had most likely done it alone, or done it with Rhys, but she silenced that bit when she saw the mask of devastation on her friend’s face. It didn’t matter what she felt. What mattered most importantly was that Nik did it, and he got rid of Diana… and he faced it strongly on his own. Eyebrows tethered to the upward, she frowned as Ryan spoke. She nodded, following him as they entered. Her eyes never left the two boys, and tears were glimmering beneath the surface. “We’re done with Bob. Is everyone alright?” Ryan asked, and she almost thanked him for remaining objective.

“We’re about as alright as could be expected.” Rhys said, and Penny let out a small whimper, something akin to a noise Woofus would make. The dog, speak of the devil, brushed his wet nose against Penny’s hand. She nearly jumped out of her skin, momentarily forgetting that he was even there. The dog knew when to nap, that’s for sure. Rhys moved away, grabbing his bag and starting toward the door. “I think we should head downstairs. I’m sure the rest of the group would like to meet the newbies.” She nodded along, but in the briefest moment before Nik could trail out after the object of his affections, she lunged forward and engulfed the man in a tight embrace. She squeezed him, burrowing her face into his shoulder and letting a couple of hapless tears fall.

“If you did what I think you did… I’m proud of you.” She whispered, pulling away quickly and giving his shoulder a final squeeze. She turned quickly, gesturing with a loud slap on her thighs for Woofus to follow. Penny scooped her belongings from the side of the bed where she had thrown them in tending to Rhys, and then followed the aforementioned man out of the door. He had a certain, authoritative swagger that she was sure he had all of the followers lining up. It was people like Rhys, and by extension herself, who had a certain aura that people flocked to for answers. Command. She wondered if like her, he was simply made that way or if an occupation gave him that bravado. She’d have to ask later.

“I’m going to see what I can cook up in the kitchen, Pen, you want to see what you can grab utensil wise? There’s gotta be someplace we can all sit down.” She nodded, following closely behind with Woofus at her heels.

“I’m sure there is. A dining hall or something. This hotel’s decently nice. Woofus and I will scope and scoop.” She smiled. Coming onto the floor, she took off in the opposite direction of Rhys, Woofus accelerating ahead of her and barking wildly.

The two came to a slow upon arriving at a mini hall. A few rooms branched off and ducking into the first she saw it was a ballroom. Wide, empty room with a few suspicious puddles and stains. No bodies were in the room, surprisingly. Woofus sniffed all the corners before following his adoptive owner out of the room.

Penny stuck her head into the next room and saw a dining hall, much to her relief. It was an expansive room, not unlike the ballroom, but had a multitude of seats and tables. She imagined continental breakfasts and business meetings over chopped fruit and salads taking place here. A few tables were overturned, and dust pooled in most of the corners. Aside from that, it was a decent feasting space. Next stop, she thought to herself, was finding utensils and a supply closet perhaps. “Woofus!” She called to the curious hound, who perked up at his name and trotted toward her.

Penny saw two doors-- aside from the initial entrance. She assumed one of them would lead to a kitchen. She reached out for the other door and twisted the knob. Swinging the door open, a skeleton flew out and expelled a dust cloud of death and age. Penny shrieked loudly, alerting Woofus who began to bark wildly at the bones. Penny threw the skeleton off, cursing it, and then automatically praying that it wasn’t another vengeful spirit. She kicked it toward the wall, letting it sit in the corner, and returned her attention to the closet.

It appeared much like a walk-in closet, with rows of shelves. Boxes lined the walls, and Penny stepped in hesitantly. On the shelves there were so many forks, knives, spoons and plates. Bowls were stuffed into a corner. About a third of the inventory was destroyed, to an extent. She frowned, running her fingers along the dusty shelves. Arriving at the back of the small room, she noticed a half open box. Another skeleton was perched next to it, almost protectively. Penny cocked her head and leaned forward, prying the bones off and letting them clatter to the ground. Penny opened the box and let out a small gasp.

Liquor. Like, bottles and bottles of it. Majority of the stash was either empty, or broken, but Penny spied at least five bottles that weren’t hopeless. She retrieved them, but the fifth slipped between her fingers and broke in the box. Now, four bottles. Not bad, and definitely not the utensils that Rhys had asked for—but she found those two. Not one for drinking, she was sure that someone else would want to get their hands on at least one of the bottles.

Arms full, Penny hobbled out of the small closet. Woofus circled her, sniffing the stale closet and aged bones all over the girl. She shooed him away and made a bet that the other door would indeed lead to the kitchen.

The door swung, and Penny was delighted that her hypothesis had been right. She saw Rhys snooping, and carefully dropped the bottles on a counter. “Hey, I found something. There’s also an entire closet of utensils, and an entire dining room just on the other side of the door.” She gestured with her thumb and Woofus barked in agreement. She spied the objects on the counter and smiled, putting her hands on her hips.

“Spaghetti? God, my Grandma used to make the best spaghetti. So much olive oil… and lots of basil. Her secret was a little bit of cayenne pepper to keep the sinuses clear.” Penny mused aloud, shaking her head blissfully at the memory. “Crazy how things like that are all gone. Lost. But we’ve got the memories.”

Penny edged closer to Rhys, clearing her throat. “I’ve been meaning to thank you. Well, I mean, I don’t have to be thanking you for this but it… it means a lot to me.

“Thank you for keeping Nik alive. I’m sure it’s no brainer, but we both know how prone to danger he can be. Not only that… but thanks for being with him. With whatever you’ve got going on together, I’m just happy that he’s happy. I thought he was dead for two years, and everyone else… but I’m just thankful, is all. I can tell you mean a lot to him, and that he means a lot to you.” She rubbed her wrists awkwardly, smiling genuinely up at the man.

“And you know, I’m no genius in the kitchen but I’m sure that enough people knocking heads together can cook spaghetti. And then drink.” She gestured back to the bottles. Penny didn’t usually drink, and in fact she abstained on multiple occasions due to the emotional roller-coaster she often went through. But now, and especially after all the shit that had already fallen… It would be nice to let loose a bit. [/div]

[div class="TinyLines"][/div] Interacting: Hell0NHighWater | Mentioned: Nik, Rhys, Ryan | Located: Old Hampton Inn, 1st floor (Kitchen) [div class="TinyLines" style="margin-bottom:0px;"][/div] [/div] [/div]

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

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[div class=statusText] Location: Hampton Inn 1st floor; Kitchen
Mentions: Prince of Assholery
Interactions: The Real Hero BELIAL.
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[div class=statusText][/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
He was in the middle of hunting for a pot. One would think that in a kitchen such as this he could find one that was around the correct size. "What the fuck, where are all the fucking pots? You've got fucking pasta in the fucking pantry but can't have a funckin'---oh." He pulled a silver pot out of a bottom cabinet with a scowl across his features. He placed it on the counter above his head, moving around some of the other pots and pulling out a sauce pan. The sound of something being placed on the counter top caused him to look up.

“Hey, I found something. There’s also an entire closet of utensils, and an entire dining room just on the other side of the door.”

He stood up, brushing his hands off on his pants before reaching for one of the bottles. His eyebrows rose, reading the name of the bottle before setting it aside a bit hesitantly. He and alcohol had a...long history. Most of it wasn't all too great, but he hadn't gone off on a binge in years. The prospect of drinking now was appealing, but there were added dangers to alcohol consumption now. Get too drunk and you could end up with a revenant bite or worse. "Nice. Not a bad selection, though I could do without the tequila. It's not as smooth as whiskey." He shrugged as if to say beggers can't be choosers and cast his fellow blessed a quick smile before turning back to the pot that he started to fill with water.

“Spaghetti? God, my Grandma used to make the best spaghetti. So much olive oil… and lots of basil. Her secret was a little bit of cayenne pepper to keep the sinuses clear.”
"Your Grandma sounds like a lady who could cook. My family is --was-- Sicilian, dinner was always a big event. And my Grandfather always made the best spaghetti. He used to tell me the secret was in the sauce. A good sauce could make or break the rest of the dish."

His lips curled into a smile, glancing over at her before placing the pot of water on the stove. He had found matches in his search for a pot and, assuming the gas was still on, he might be able to get this stove working. He was just grateful that it wasn't an electric stove otherwise they would have been screwed.

“Crazy how things like that are all gone. Lost. But we’ve got the memories.”

Rhys nodded in agreement, "I'd drink to that." He chuckled a little offhandedly, opening a couple cabinets above his head in search for some olive oil and spices. “I’ve been meaning to thank you. Well, I mean, I don’t have to be thanking you for this but it… it means a lot to me." He glanced her way, taking note of the way she shifted a little closer and he turned a little to accommodate the conversation.

“Thank you for keeping Nik alive. I’m sure it’s no brainer, but we both know how prone to danger he can be. Not only that… but thanks for being with him. With whatever you’ve got going on together, I’m just happy that he’s happy. I thought he was dead for two years, and everyone else… but I’m just thankful, is all. I can tell you mean a lot to him, and that he means a lot to you.”

He grabbed the garlic powder and placed it beside the unopened box of spaghetti. "I only met him a..." his brows furrowed as if trying to remember just how much time had elapsed since they had all met at the airport, "week ago?" Rhys shrugged a little, time was a concept that didn't matter as much as it used to. In this world, you could be here one moment and gone the next, never really sure if each breath could be your last. "Guess it's a good thing for him that I like danger. Keeps things interesting. Can't say that there hasn't been a dull moment." He smiled back at her, a bit brighter than his usual smirk before he turned back to the stove. He set the pot on the burner before switching the gas on, when nothing clicked over he stuck a match and watched the flame catch. He jerked back a little from the force of the flame and quickly adjusted the knob. Now all he needed to do was wait and...maybe find a can opener for those veggies he had found earlier.

Rhys pressed his lips together, mulling over the last part of her deceleration of thanks. Was Nik...happy? With him? Penny seemed to think so, and he supposed that having the somewhat unsaid blessing of his best friend was a bit of a bonus. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, rubbing the back of his neck in silence for a moment.

"There's no need to thank me for that, Penny. I would have been there anyway even if we...weren't..." He didn't have a name for it. Didn't know what to call it, so he just left the end of the sentence hang dead in the air and hoped she got the idea. He cleared his throat, pulling the sauce pan over to another burner.

“And you know, I’m no genius in the kitchen but I’m sure that enough people knocking heads together can cook spaghetti. And then drink.”

Rhys chuckled a bit under his breath, one side of his lips pulling up higher than the other, "Or drink while knocking heads together trying to cook spaghetti. I think there are glasses over there. Might want to save some wine for blondie. I've got a feeling he's more of a wine mom type. Fruity shit seems more his style."

He glanced over at the bottles in question, a little bit of a mischievous glint entering his gaze, "Or you can crack open that bottle of tequila, but I promise you won't be able to out drink me."

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[Chise_Robin_]

Alaska​

Location: Hampton inn first floor and just outside the inn
mentions: Hell0NHighWater BELIAL.
OOC: I WANT MY HAIR BRAIDING THINGY!! BasiliskVeranda

"Or drink while knocking heads together trying to cook spaghetti. I think there are glasses over there. Might want to save some wine for blondie. I've got a feeling he's more of a wine mom type. Fruity shit seems more his style."
Catching the last sentence Rhys said as she started walking towards the kitchen earned a chuckle from Alaska. They seemed...happy, and chipper, and jokes were being cracked right and left between the two blessed. Almost as if flipping the apocalypse off with the fact that no matter what happened nothing will be able to break their spirit.


The young hunter hauled herself up onto the counter, sitting on her hands and rocking her legs back and forth. She was horrible..HORRİBLE when it came to cooking and decided to sit this one off. She'd run errands for the two competing chefs and maybe wash the dishes if they wanted her to but it was best for everyone if she didn't touch the food.


"so we've got brilliant Italian sauce, and the world's best spaghetti recipe! That doesn't sound bad at all! We can even use the cheese Nik's looted with the wine as appetizers" Alaska shrugged slightly before looking at the unopened bottles with a frown: ''Please don't screw up my spaghetti'' She half joked. ''On second thought, you'd be ok if you don't put any sugar inside of the sauce...trust me on that one'' She grinned remembering an old kitchen fail before jumping off the counter to open the drawer under it, it consisted of a can opener that she tossed to Rhys, forks, knives and napkins. Finally and after almost three years, she'd be able to have a proper home cooked, well hotel cooked meal with people. ''I'll set these up in the cafeteria!'' their optimism was contagious, and she found herself running almost childishly between the kitchen and the nearest table in the cafeteria, propping seats and setting the table for the remaining people.


Work that doesn't require brain power really helped her get her mind off other stuff, the week her brother died she spent hours running in the gym with earphones separating her from the whole world. In this weather however, running wasn't an option, and with thanksgiving coming so soon she found it relaxing to occupy herself with arranging beautiful white napkins with grey ribbons, wine glasses, plates and a candle in the middle. Most of the liquor bottles stood neatly at the end of the table, save for the tequila which she had a feeling the two blessed wouldn't want to part with just yet, She chuckled to herself as she aligned the chairs slowly.


Now that she was pleased with how the table looked, Alaska went to the second floor looking for an open room to shower and get the stench of death and revenant blood off of her. She was guided by the ghost bride to a room at the end of the corridor, and gently closed the door after thanking the pale woman with a faint smile.
After finishing her freezing cold shower which she'd gotten used to, Alaska got out shivering with nothing but a towel with the logo "Hampton'' on it wrapped around her body.
To her surprise, on the bed lay a baby blue sweater of almost her size, a pair of ripped dark blue jeans, a pair of black combat boots a dark red lipstick and a heavy grey scarf. The dead bride hovered next to them with an attempt of a smile, and after making sure Alaska had seen the gifts she disappeared through a wall.


With her new outfit and damp hair, which she promised she'd ask someone to braid it later, Alaska went down to the first floor, the smell of tomato sauce and and warm pasta filling the air and making her really hungry. In the cafeteria and in a corner she found an old Gramophone that she ran to and put the first record she saw inside of it, turned the handle, then fixed the needle on the record and was surprised to hear smooth instrumental jazz music which she decided to keep playing.

After unwrapping the towel from her hair, Alaska threw herself in frustration over one of the mini couches in the reception, tired, hungry and completely pissed off at the messy state of her chestnut brown locks. She fiddled with it a little trying to imitate a braid and failing miserably, and had to fight the urge of cropping her hair so short that she wouldn't need to worry about it anymore. "what the hell am I supposed to do with this thing without a conditioner" Something between a groan and a sigh escaped the young Hunter's mouth as she now sat back in the couch, her arms lay tired by her hands from trying on a little too many failed ways to braid.

 

[Lekiel]

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Reverie Lowiezka​

LOCATION — Nightmare Mansion > Old Hampton Inn
INTERACTIONS — BasiliskVeranda Chise_Robin_
MENTIONS— Lakyr Steel_427 , I'm also stealing BasiliskVeranda 's job.
DESC. — Hair unfettered, tan wrap coat, red scarf, tights, black converse.[/div]

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❖ ❖​

Memorabilia
❖ ❖​

They had sent him and his on his way. They were gone, truly. She hoped they were in a better place. Or better yet, a 'no-place'. Looking at the world as it was now, she couldn't really imagine what it'd be like to have a good afterlife. Oblivion would be welcome. The moment when you were in your deepest sleep. That brief time of non-existence each time you closed your eyes for the night, only it went on forever. Yes, it would be nice. To not feel. To not remember.

I think we all remind each other of someone...someone...someone...

Slim alabaster fingers traced over the worn leather of the Kawasaki Ninja's pillion seat. In the muted light of day, the two-seater racer stood beside the van on the frozen tarmac. She couldn't bear to be indoors. Not yet. Her thoughts were faraway, and they needed space. Someplace with a limitless sky, and no reminders of death, or the lives that once lived. It was funny how all living things always seemed wanting of refuge. A place over their heads, a corner to call their own. Even for those that had passed on. A place or thing or insubstantial will to belong. Perhaps they all found definition in the things around them; empty vessels that found validity in other empty vessels. She remembered watching a demonstration of some documentary once. How two fully transparent lenses, when brought together and turned at a particular angle, made the glasses opaque. It was a foolishness that seemed to plague men, but was perhaps one of the few things that made mankind unique. Tawny eyes watched as cottony flakes drifted lazily down, dotting the jet black of the bike's chassis with a smattering of starry white. The carbon fiber was cold beneath her fingertips. She closed her eyes, imagined the rumbling murmur of its superchargers coming to live. Hands tight around her waist. Perfume of breezy spring meadows teasing on the bracing wind.

Why?

Maybe it's the people we've known since it all happened. The people we lost, despite ourselves. ourselves...ourselves...

But you can only lose if you once had. And she never had much.

She looked down at the coat of vermillion furs she had retrieved in her arms. It would've suited her more. Red as a burning flame, like how her hair had been. Scarlet tendrils taken up by the rushing wind as they cruised along the highway.

She... didn't know how she felt... or even if she should feel. The past few moments, no, hours... days... it had all gone by too quickly. The memory of her sightless glassy eyes, ones that had shone with a brilliant sapphire. Gone. And she'd finally had the time and space to realize that there was now a vacant spot in her heart. Not a big one, but one nonetheless. She'd been too used to kicking it out alone, going at her own pace, a solivagant with her own thoughts for company. And then she had stumbled upon them. It was peculiar, in an ironic sort of way, how she had kept track of the time back then. Counted the days until it all became a smudged memory of light cycles and blended happenings attributed to a neverending number. How time had passed. But ever since she'd stepped foot in that little bookstore back in Newark, she'd felt like she lived seven lifetimes. For once, she'd stopped looking at the merry little chase of celestial bodies in the heavens and looked down to where her two feet walked the ground. Down here, Reverie realized, every fraction of a second mattered. Every moment was so laden with such soul-found poignancy that it threatened to bubble over and spill out of her throat if she allowed her thoughts to dwell upon it; which she wouldn't. She had lost that privilege long ago. To think of greater things. Things beyond herself. But perhaps, perhaps she had found it again.

She hadn't realized her feet had carried her back into the courtyard of the quaint little inn they had found. The air was much lighter, like the feeling you got watching tranquil waves lap at the shores of smooth pebblestones. The funeral pyre was burning low. The caress of fur in her arms almost seemed like a reminder, a nudge. Move on, but how..? She stepped forward, pulled it out to hover just out of reach of the licking flames. Red. Just like she had been.

So when I say thank you, when I say you saved me, you understand just how much that means to me."

Something passed over her facade, not unlike a scintillating sliver of light. She wavered, then tucked the coat back to her and turned to head in. She hadn't been able to say it then, but she sure as the hell they were in now, wouldn't miss the opportunity now.

She couldn't know, but eyes of sapphire smiled upon her.

❖ ❖​

The others had already begun to gather, and she noticed that there were a couple of new additions. But right now, she only sought out one. She found him somewhere, drifting in one of the rooms or halls, or perhaps near the others; she hadn't been cognizant of the place. Only the fact that she saw the overgrown boy with a mop of disheveled blonde, and was struck by the look in his eyes and knew. He'd let her go. It must've been hard.

She had known all along, of his little splash of milk white and satin from the past. The little flame that hounded his every step. She'd seen her, but didn't know the details, and hadn't cared to pry. She found that she cared now. In an odd way nonetheless, for she hadn't cared in a long time. She stood before him, wordless, hands fidgeting with the furs he had once bequeathed to her.

"I..." it was difficult to get it out. The syllables caught in her throat, unsure which to pick and which to discard. The stuff they all went through, she didn't feel like they needed to hear words to be reminded of what happened. Their eyes said it all. In that moment, her mind had been made up. Stepping forwards, she embraced the man. Tense slightly at first, but she didn't care if it appeared awkward. Gradually, she loosened up, and she allowed her presence to be felt by him, bringing him a wordless comfort. Not one of pity, nor even of understanding, for his past harrows surely struck him in a different tone than hers did her. But it was one of care. A momentary sharing of definition between each other, a display of what made oneself to the other. From one empty vessel, to another.

"Here... I think it looks better on you, red... has never really been my thing." She'd offered him back the coat of red when they had parted. She would insist, or perhaps leave it by the side near to him if he didn't take it. She didn't care if he gave it away, or left it alone.

"Thanks." She said after a moment. "I forgot to thank you before... for... help- saving me." Reverie worried her lower lip, uncomfortable with the vulnerability, but once the words had left her lips, she felt a weight lift off her chest. Looking up, she caught his deep blue orbs in her own and smiled. A smile that reached into the corners of her almond shaped eyes. Sincere. She lingered comfortably, should he respond in whatever kind, before slipping away to join the others.

Thank you too... Em.

❖ ❖​

"What the hell am I supposed to do with this thing without a conditioner?"

"Here, I'll help you make that more manageable." The Slavic woman stepped onto the couch behind Alaska, and began combing her hands through her tangled tresses. Unless she protested, Reverie would begin the task of braiding the brunette's hair. The chilled vibes lilting from the gramophone caught her attention, prompting a memory to the surface. She recognized the song, one she had sung on many a late night, under the watchful eye of a muted spotlight and accompanied by the sounds of indecipherable chatter.

"Y'know, I used to moonlight as a jazz singer at bars back then."

It was comforting, like hot chocolate in winter. Absorbed with her task, Reverie allowed the lyrics of the forgotten era to sound from between her ruby lips. The alto of her voice harmoniously engaging with the rich tones of the record, filling their little space with entrancing music.

Live Forever - The Cooltrane Quartet

Spoiler

Maybe I don't really wanna know
How your garden grows
'Cause I just wanna fly
Lately, did you ever feel the pain
In the morning rain
As it soaks you to the bone?

Maybe I just wanna fly
Wanna live, I don't wanna die
Maybe I just wanna breathe
Maybe I just don't believe
Maybe you're the same as me
We see things they'll never see
You and I are gonna live forever

I said maybe I don't really wanna know
How your garden grows
'Cause I just wanna fly
Lately, did you ever feel the pain
In the morning rain
As it soaks you to the bone?

Maybe I will never be
All the things that I wanna be
Now is not the time to cry
Now's the time to find out why
I think you're the same as me
We see things they'll never see
You and I are gonna live forever

Maybe I don't really wanna know
How your garden grows
'Cause I just wanna fly
Lately, did you ever feel the pain
In the morning rain
As it soaks you to the bone

Maybe I just wanna fly
Wanna live, I don't wanna die
Maybe I just wanna breathe
Maybe I just don't believe
Maybe you're the same as me
We see things they'll never see
You and I are gonna live forever

Gonna live forever
Gonna live forever
We're gonna live forever
Gonna live forever
Gonna live forever
Gonna live forever

[/div][/div]
[/div]

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:13px; color: #1d1b15; font-weight:100; display:flex; flex-flow: row nowrap; height: 100%; [/class] [class=whut]background-color: #fff; padding:30px; [/class] [class=handsomedevil] background: #fff; text-align: center; margin: 0 auto; padding:20px; color: #1d1b15; font-weight:800; flex: 1; border: 3px solid #181a1b; outline: 2px solid #988b42; font-size:13px; [/class] [class=speaks] border: 3px solid #181a1b; outline: 2px solid #988b42; font-size:13px; max-height:1780px; overflow: auto; line-height:1.9; ;padding:2%; text-align: left; background:#181a1b; flex: 1; flex-basis: 30%; margin-left: 40px; margin-right:15px; color: #fff; [/class] [class=speaksup] color: #1d1b15; border: 3px solid #181a1b; outline: 2px solid #988b42; font-size:50px; word-spacing: 4px; letter-spacing: 5px; ;padding:1%; text-align: center; background:#fff; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=speakeasy] border: 3px solid #181a1b; outline: 2px solid #988b42; letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: center; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #fff; font-weight:100; background: #181a1b;[/class] [class=speakeasy2] border: 3px solid #181a1b; outline: 2px solid #988b42; text-align: left; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #fff; font-weight:100; background: #181a1b; line-height:1.9; [/class] [class name=handsomedevil maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px[/class] [class name=biggie maxWidth="800px"] padding: 0px; margin: 0 auto; flex-direction: column;[/class] [class name=speaks maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; margin-top:20px; overflow: hidden; max-height: 100%;[/class] [class name=bye maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class]
[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦`𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦'𝘴. [/div]

𝘕𝘐𝘒𝘓𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘈𝘔 𝘝𝘖𝘚𝘚

[div class=speakeasy2]LOCATION — Hampton Inn, 1st Floor
OOC: replying to a lot to catch up, sorry everyone! also stealing the braiding job backkkkkkkkk
INTERACTING WITH: Angel Boi Hell0NHighWater , Quiet Nice Girl Steel_427 , Hero In Training Lakyr
The Real Hero Of This Story, BELIAL.

Then: Nik's Favorite State Chise_Robin_ , Guurrrrlllllllll Lekiel

BGM — Rhys & Penny being heroes: MAC DEMARCO - THIS OLD DOG
BGM — Downstairs being a dork: MARTINEZ - PICTURES OF YOU
[/div]
[div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳.[/div]
[/div][div class=speaks]"The truth's a bitch, but better than the whore of a lie." Nik kept this phrase, catching it to place it in a spot of his mind, to dwell on. Because he would always dwell on it, and thought on how often he did obfuscate information, despite trying his best to be an open book. A fallible man, a man of contradictions, human...and yet not.

Then Rhys dashed the spiral path of thoughts away when he gave him a warm, slight, sunrise of a smile. Something that seemed to have shed the trappings of stealth. No petering at the edges, freezing the best parts, blinded in pride, fear, or shirked away, for fear of something more. Nik would've liked to have kept that smile in a slip of film, his own expression matching it at this moment. He would've kept it in his pocket for the rest of time.

Ah, but, he couldn't, those odds and ends of technological wonders were broken down, gored hardware now. He'd just have to keep warming the other man with his gaze, hoping to see it again. Needling in jokes, wayward jabs of flirting, digging under the whitelighter's skin, until it sunk in that this sunrise was staying. No moon would swap for that sun, he'd hold the light in his fist, and hell itself couldn't rend it free.

Stretching now, his shoulder popped awkwardly. Doing demon ninja parkour wasn't working wonders for him. He had always been a runner, and active enough, but Nik knew in his heart of hearts he wasn't a war machine. Crackled bones like tired old picture frames, bristling into kindling with each new war of fists and emotions. That's what happens when you slog through warzones against unholy enemies for days and days and days on end.

He wasn't a hunter, he wasn't trained for battle. Strong, but, a normal man in all senses of the word.

No rest for the part-time wicked, he thought.

Another thought died, he was turned around, body shifted in, enveloped in an embrace. One he hadn't been expecting, a pleasant surprise.

Nik closed his eyes slowly, an arm sliding around his waist, Rhys' hand on the back of his head, messy blond hair strewn up, disheveled. Nik's brows were tilted up slightly, lips parted, hands up but not touching the warm, reassuring body in front of him. Held up like he had with the little ghost. But after a few moments, Nik let his hands slide up the other man's chest, and hooked his heavy head to rest in the cove of the other man's neck.

A pleasant noise left his mouth, a warm murmur, he felt the heart beating beneath his hands. Strong, perhaps a bit nervous. His obscured smile curled on the corner of his mouth. He thanked the heavens above that he had absolutely no iota of faith in whatsoever for at least...getting this one thing right.

When it had fucked literally everything else up.

"...fine, would have been better if I hadn't woken up...the way I had," Rhys pulled away, and Nik let his gaze wander the painting that was his face, resting finally on the other man's piercing eyes.

"...hmm?" The blond was about to question the whitelighter's sentence, but it didn't seem like the time. Rhys linked his fingers with Nik's own, almost like a natural reaction, despite his stare passing through the blond. Which was more than a little disconcerting.

Rhys was now lost in thought, eyeing the blond in the low light in a way Nik didn't quite understand. The blond's strong brow arched in a physical response, being looked through was disarming, even for him.

He took that moment to steer his free hand to place the dwindling cigarette to his own lips, and blow smoke off to the side. At that moment, Ryan and Penny opened the door, and Nik lost the hand he had been holding. He narrowed his eyes, not quite ready to give it up just yet.

He had just run through a lifetime's worth of sorrow, soul feeling like it had been sucked clean through his forehead with a metal fucking straw—if that's where souls lived. Certainly, the tension was there. All he wanted was to sit by that sunrise and warm.

Take in some pleasant words, and rest, and laugh, a new set of dulcet memories. Their tapestry put up on the wall, every space in his life tangled up in all of their lives. Irrevocably tangled, and some parts already threadbare and tattered, stories lost with life's last breath.

"We're done with Bob. Is everyone alright?" The pale smoke kissed across Nik's field of vision, he smiled, it was mute, slow. Emotionally draining encounters could hit with as much force as a bullet, and it had done just that. He opened his mouth to respond, but Rhys took up the phrases Nik had been chewing on.

"We're about as alright as could be expected," Rhys said, and Nik added a muted 'mhm' from behind the cigarette that was supped on. His deep blue gaze dragged against the scene, the poppy-red tip of his cigarette glowing like a beacon.

"I think we should head downstairs. I'm sure the rest of the group would like to meet the newbies."
Nik was about to add a quippy comment about the Ghost Busters, but Penny launched forward and wrapped the blond up in a tight squeeze, her face shoved into him, burrowing into his shoulder. The red of his coat fettered against the pale light of her skin in a mottled line. He was painted in shades of gray, opposite her bursting emotions, held at bay by her strength.

He stood solitary for a few moments, but then gathered her up into his arms. She squeezed him tightly, and he did the same, deep blue eyes closing as he relaxed into the light she gave him.

She was warm, and even though she had been running around like damn Rambo Barbie, she smelled sweet. Like home, like peace, always comforting. Despite the cast of rosewater and sage that stung him. Even with his skin tingling from their opposite curses. She was his light in the dark.

“If you did what I think you did… I’m proud of you,” she whispered to him, before squeezing his shoulder, and calling for Woofus.

"I—" He would've tried to offer a thank you, but probably he'd just trip on his words and blurt out how there was no reason to be proud of him, or some other garbage. But he was even too drained to indulge in self pity at the moment.

The dog more or less gave him the canine equivalent of an eye roll, and Nik sighed. He'd never get that dog, or any dog for that matter, to trust him. And this was why he was a devout cat person.

People often said that dogs were a good judge of character. He tended to agree with that. He had darkness deep in his veins, long before the apocalypse. Maybe that brutal day in his youth, the fated friendship between the stupid brit and the scrappy youth glimmering to life, had really marked his beginnings as something sick, and wrong.

"I'm going to see what I can cook up in the kitchen, Pen, you want to see what you can grab utensil wise? There's gotta be someplace we can all sit down.
"I have some shit in my bag, I'll grab it, see what we're fuckin' working with," he offered, thinking on the barely remembered laundry list of foodstuffs he had snagged at the market, a dim smile winding on his face.

"Let's go," he said to Daisy, eyes crinkling in a slightly warmer smile. His token catty inclinations and charming snarks were buried in his chest for the time being. Too much had happened, too many acrid feelings, biting his disposition raw. The flame of his heart low, energy dim, grateful for so many things, but it didn't mean he wasn't exhausted.

⛧ ⛧ ⛧ ⛧

While the others were busy, Nik rounded back near the entry of the hotel to grab his backpack. He took a little longer than he usually would've, mind filled to the brim with a thousand different thoughts, and yet, also emptiness. It was like the letdown of an upper, a crash after the adrenaline and dopamine had all but ate his brain raw. The blond found his bag, obnoxiously green and cloying, and hefted it over his shoulder.

"...green and red...I look like fuckin' Santa Claus," he said to nobody in particular, his disposition broken by a smirk. Cigarette jammed between his teeth, he made his way back to where the others were and was about to set his bag down with an unenthusiastic plop, when Reverie materialized into his view. His eyes lit up, happy to see her alive and well, his heart strings pulling as he instinctively went back to what he had witnessed.

And what he had wished he could, time and time again, wipe from ever happening to her. But he wasn't a magician, and he didn't have a fuckin' Tardis.

"I..." she was struggling to find the words, and Nik just looked upon her with the openness and fondness. Waiting, not judging, and not impatient. Smoke spilled from his nose into the air, as he let the bag fall of his shoulder and to the floor with gravity's graceful pull wielding it safely down. She was wearing the coat from before, he hadn't noticed that she'd kept it. If he had been born a woman—or in a particularly ridiculous mood—he'd be wearing that thing into the bloody ground.

Then, she hugged him. Nik hadn't expected this, not by a long shot, and it humbled him. Awkward at first, as she wasn't the type to give these out very frequently—if ever, he imagined—but the embrace became less rigid. It felt like a truly great gift, coming from Reverie. He didn't know what he did to deserve this, but returned it in kind, warm, a squeeze. Nik was obviously a fan of affectionate gestures.

"Here... I think it looks better on you, red... has never really been my thing." Nik let out a sharp laugh, and took the coat in his hands. When the world hadn't gone to shit, this thing would have been worth thousands upon thousands of dollars. Percival would've given her kidney for it, or shanked a bitch. He shook his head, the corner of his mouth quirking.

He eyed it a few times, the wheels spinning in his head, mulling over if he wanted to be an obnoxious poof and flounce around in a gorgeously gaudy fur coat like the sarcastic fruitbasket he was, or gift it.

"It's a bit much, for me, but thank you. I know just who would flip her shit to wear it," he chuckled placing the cigarette back between his lips, lest he start gnawing them again.

"Thanks. I forgot to thank you before... for... help- saving me."
"You saved yourself, Rev. You're a one woman army. Don't you ever forget it," he said with a gentle smile, then stooped to unzipper his bag. When he glanced up, she was gone, but he was more intent on stuffing his face at the moment. Coat by his side, hands in the bag, he pulled out a protein bar, or what was labeled as one. You could never be too sure.

It must have been some kind of military ration, rebranded for marketing purposes, and labeled as a health-food item. He switched his cigarette from his mouth to his fingers, and stood, bar in hand, packaging tearing with a loud crinkle and rip. Then he jammed a bit into his mouth, gathered his stuff up into his arms, and made his way to the others. He passed by Reverie and Alaska, Reverie now braiding the other woman's hair. Plopping his things on the ground again, protein bar jammed in his mouth, cigarette between his fingers, he looked on.

"Hmh..hh.." he spoke, muffled through his food, swallowing a bite down before speaking, "Sorry," he collected himself from diving into that abomination against his taste buds, "but you're just going to make her split ends even more fucked than they were before—" Nik dipped down to rummage through his bag, took out a bottle of water, downed a bit of it, then wrestled free a bottle of olive oil.

"Lots of female friends in my life, lots of fuckin' hair-care products. Percy swore by olive oil. Fried her hair lighter than Penny's on the regular. Sounds crazy, but..." he looked at and then between the two women, holding the olive oil in his fist. Slowly...realizing how awkward it was to try to give...women....advice about their own fucking hair. And how much of a fruit he sounded in that moment, he cringed at himself. Nik wasn't the type to cringe...at himself.

He cursed under his breath, his brows raising, but not before setting the bottle down near their reach. His fingers left it like he were setting down a very dangerous, very fragile pit viper.

"I'm...just going to....pretend...I didn't just become a walking stereotype, and that I didn't try to tell you ladies how to work your own hair....shit," the last word was said under his breath. Nik knelt down again, cigarette now back in his mouth, protein bar jammed back into the backpack, and just as the water bottle had joined the party, and he stood, the zipper just...broke.

"...well alright then...guess I'll be carting all this to the kitchen by hand....thanks, Jesus."

All the food he had stashed had over-encumbered the thing, and now the container of dried oats, the random packets of freeze-dried-whatevered-fruit, the weird block of cheese, sardine cans, everything, all of it, was just...all over the place. He instantly knelt back down, hands on the back of his neck.

This day had gone from worse, to amazing, to terrible, to great, to why...why...in the matter of a handful of hours. If even that.

"I'm getting too old for this," he said with a chuckle, relinquishing to just sit back on his ass and stare as the container of oatmeal made it's getaway across the floor. Cigarette between his fingers, knees raised up, smoke in the air, watching as it hit a bump and reeled through a doorway.

"...well, if they didn't know I had goodies, now they do. Least I don't have to get up now," he said to himself, really. Nik laid back onto the floor and grumbled. Rhys must have been rubbing off on him.

[/div][/div]
[/div]

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][div class="imageBorder"]

[/div][/div]

[div class=statusText] Location: Hampton Inn 1st floor; Kitchen
BGM: Before the switch In the mood
After the switch Jailhouse Rock +
Devil in disguise
Interactions: The Real Hero BELIAL. |Alaskr Chise_Robin_ | Devil in disguise BasiliskVeranda
[/div]

[div class=statusText][/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
The lyrics swim through his cerebral cortex like a wakeful dream, the notes relaxing, enabling the song to call to his entire being; it was like medicine delivered in the most divine way. His hands stilled in their action of breaking open a pasta box, hearing the soft squeak of a pair of doors opening into the kitchen followed by footsteps. The music was louder with them opened and when they swung shut again those dulcet tunes became muted to a soft, continuous, hum. His gaze swept over Alaska as she marched in, observing and making some comment about wine and cheese that he shrugged off halfheartedly. He was more interested in the booze than the cheese.

''Please don't screw up my spaghetti,'' His eyebrows rose to his hairline, unable to come up with where she got the idea that it was her spaghetti. Rhys might not have been the best cook, but he was Italian. If he couldn't cook a simple pasta his Grandfather would disown him from the grave. ''On second thought, you'd be ok if you don't put any sugar inside of the sauce...trust me on that one.''

He blanched. An audible noise of distress leaving him at the notion of putting sugar inside of his sauce. If he had a wooden spoon he would have been shaking it at her and telling her to take her blasphemy out of his kitchen. "Whoever puts sugar in their pasta sauce is not allowed in my kitchen." He was thoroughly disgusted and the languorous mosh-pit of old world jazz floating in from what he assumed was the dinning area, was not helping his mood. He couldn't cook to this. Making food was an art form and although he wasn't a master, he had respect for it. That respect meant that he wasn't about to sit through the next hour or so prepping and cooking listening to a cacophony of saxophones and trumpets. It felt like he was in some upscale dining hall...stuffy...and dressed to the nines. There was a time and place for this type of music and in his kitchen, this wasn't the time nor place.
Casting one last glance at his pot of water, he jogged out to the dinning room and --following the source of the music-- removed the needle off the record. "The fuck is this? 19 fuckin' 20?" His complaint went unheard as he switched the records and prayed for something a bit better.
The first cord played and a grin split across his face.

There was nothing better than The King.

He hadn't heard this record in decades, the fact that it was still around gave him a little more hope in humanity.

When Rhys came sliding --literally-- through the doors again, his boots squeaked against the tile as he gave a little twirl, arms flaring out almost like wings as his body tilted to the side. He kicked a garbage can against the door so he could hear the music better and slid over to the pot that was now boiling. He put the pasta in and got the can opener for the tomato paste. His feet continued to move, dancing in place as he went to work, singing parts under his breath as he went along. In a few seconds the sauce was starting to warm and he spun in place, flaring out the lapels of his jacket as he tossed a grin towards Penny, "Number forty-seven said to number three:
'You're the cutest jailbird I ever did see
I sure would be delighted with your company
Come on and do the Jailhouse Rock with me' "
His left eye dropped into a wink, laughing a little as he continued to do a full blown dance for her, his body moving in time with the beat in a convergence of moves that were both new and old. He turned the heat on the sauce to low before he slid sideways towards Penny, grabbing her hand and making her partner to his antics as he spun her around before letting her get back to preparing the food that she was working on.

Rhys was so busy dancing that he hadn't noticed the container of oatmeal rolling in from the open doors. The side of his foot hit it and he almost tripped, catching himself on the edge of the counter just in time. A string of curses flew from his lips, as he stooped down to pick up the mysterious item. He wondered if there had been a ghost that they had missed deciding to interrupt his good time. But he didn't think that was possible, or at least he hoped it wasn't possible. He glanced over at the pasta for a moment, content that it wouldn't be ruined in the time it took him to look out the main doors to figure out where the oatmeal of death had come from. The first song on the record closed and another started as he moved out of the kitchen to look towards the direction the oatmeal had rolled in from. His eyebrows rose, taking note of a particular quasi-devil grumbling to himself of the floor.
Rhys snorted, fighting back laughter at the sight of just how done he seemed sprawled out on the ground, almost like an adorable toddler.

Devil in disguise indeed.

"Your oatmeal almost assassinated me, sorry to say it failed. Might want to reevaluate your efforts, blondie."

Rhys smirked down at him, shaking the container at him in time with the maracas in the song. He might have been having too much fun with the music and the dancing and the teasing, but he would take his pleasures where he could find them. Life wasn't worth living if you were serious in all moments. A hand extended out to him, "Did you want help up or are you gonna sit on the floor? I've got food to check, so I've gotta dance my ass back into the kitchen." Rhys shimmied his hips a bit to the beat as if making a point, azure orbs flickering over the mess of what had to be his backpack for the briefest of moments before letting his focus center back on Nik. Maybe he could find him a new backpack, with all the luggage around it shouldn't be too hard to find a replacement. Rhys' smirk grew a tad bit sharper, "Come on, Grandma, I haven't got all day."

[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#242c38; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #b5b7b7; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:2px dotted rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:2px dotted rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:2px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: ##2a4047; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px solid white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:13px; color: #1d1b15; font-weight:100; display:flex; flex-flow: row nowrap; height: 100%; [/class] [class=whut]background-color: #fff; padding:30px; [/class] [class=handsomedevil] background: #fff; text-align: center; margin: 0 auto; padding:20px; color: #1d1b15; font-weight:800; flex: 1; border: 3px solid #181a1b; outline: 2px solid #988b42; font-size:13px; [/class] [class=speaks] border: 3px solid #181a1b; outline: 2px solid #988b42; font-size:13px; max-height:1780px; overflow: auto; line-height:1.9; ;padding:2%; text-align: left; background:#181a1b; flex: 1; flex-basis: 30%; margin-left: 40px; margin-right:15px; color: #fff; [/class] [class=speaksup] color: #1d1b15; border: 3px solid #181a1b; outline: 2px solid #988b42; font-size:50px; word-spacing: 4px; letter-spacing: 5px; ;padding:1%; text-align: center; background:#fff; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=speakeasy] border: 3px solid #181a1b; outline: 2px solid #988b42; letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: center; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #fff; font-weight:100; background: #181a1b;[/class] [class=speakeasy2] border: 3px solid #181a1b; outline: 2px solid #988b42; text-align: left; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #fff; font-weight:100; background: #181a1b; line-height:1.9; [/class] [class name=handsomedevil maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px[/class] [class name=biggie maxWidth="800px"] padding: 0px; margin: 0 auto; flex-direction: column;[/class] [class name=speaks maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; margin-top:20px; overflow: hidden; max-height: 100%;[/class] [class name=bye maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class]
[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦`𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦'𝘴. [/div]


𝘕𝘐𝘒𝘓𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘈𝘔 𝘝𝘖𝘚𝘚

[div class=speakeasy2]LOCATION — Hampton Inn, 1st Floor
OOC: something short srry
TAGS: Angel Boi Hell0NHighWater , The Real Hero Of This Story, BELIAL. , Braid Thief Lekiel , Nik's Fave State Chise_Robin_
BGM — THE PIXIES - HERE COMES YOUR MAN
[/div]
[div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳.[/div]
[/div][div class=speaks]"......Elvis?" Nik grimaced as the music changed, stretching out across the floor like an exasperated feline. He didn't like jazz, and he wasn't particularly a fan of Elvis, but any music was better than no music. He heard the distinct sound of metal being kicked, and commotion within the kitchen area. He cast a lazy gaze and rolled over on the floor to get a better vantage point.

He wound to rest on his side and sat with his elbow against the floor, head planted firmly on his palm. The other hand trailed the cigarette through the air every now-and-then, pressed to his lips in long drags. He caught the pair of heroes dancing about as they apparently cooked everyone's dinner.

Nik was still terribly drained, and the floor felt like the best possible location for him at the moment, uninterested in moving himself. Though he did enjoy dancing a great deal.

"I don't know about you two," he addressed both Alaska and Reverie, "But I'm more of a Cline-Cash-Parton type of man, if we're going to go fuckin' around in ancient musical history..." Nik paused for a few moments, mulling over his cigarette, blowing smoke rings. He cast a gaze to Reverie's work on Alaska's hair, a smile punctuating his languid smoking routine, and then rounded his eyes across the room. Searching for the others perhaps, then he thought on the necklace he still had in his pocket.

"...has anyone seen Stella?" he asked, smoke petering from his mouth into the air. This was an awful habit. He had tried to quit many, many times, but amounts of undue stress had simply unraveled his attempts at every turn. The crappocalypse was nothing but stress, and so, he simply had continued.

"Your oatmeal almost assassinated me, sorry to say it failed. Might want to reevaluate your efforts, blondie." Nik tilted his head to the side, looking over the whitelighter from the ground up, dragging his gaze, a coy smile playing on his face. The other man was shaking the oatmeal container like a bloody instrument, which warranted Nik's cheeky grin to blossom, deep blue eyes more alight than they had been before.

A small glimmer, but there, and it grew as Rhys' dorkiness charmed the blond part-time devil out of his dry disposition.

"Shit. You caught me red-handed," he said with a snort, whirling smoke into the air, "better use peanut butter next time. I know that's your kryptonite." Rhys extended his hand and the blond contemplated quite honestly just taking a nap, but this new side of the whitelighter, swaying to the music and acting like a ham sandwich, made him dash away that option.

"Did you want help up or are you gonna sit on the floor? I've got food to check, so I've gotta dance my ass back into the kitchen." There was a very clearly inappropriate flirty jab there, embedded in that sentence, that Nik was having a very hard time coming up with. Considering all that had just happened and how tired he was, he failed to make it. A lost opportunity.

"Come on, Grandma, I haven't got all day."

"Grandma? Haven't been called that one before," he said with a short laugh and took this opportune moment to clutch Rhys' hand and spin around him, not unlike a dance move, Rhys' hand still in his grasp, Nik's face near the back of his shoulder.

If there was just one thing that Percival had gifted him with, outside of her immaculate friendship, it was the ability to move with purpose. He owed each of his friends a part of who he was. Every single person was a collection of all they touched, an amalgamation of parts spliced together. Some things borrowed, some things gifted, colored in the memories made and friendships forged.

It hadn't come naturally, he had been an awkward youth. Slim and standoffish, rough around the edges, sharp at the corners. She had taken one look at him, during his younger years, and had announced between her bright magenta lipstick that he was a lost cause.

And that she loved to help lost causes.

"What are we cooking?" he asked, shifting to place his hands on the other man's shoulders, mouth to the shell of his ear. Nik skittered him forward, eager now to do something other than just sit and grouse about being tired. He was eager to see what his heroes were cooking up.

And if he could pinpoint where the silver-haired witch had run off to, maybe he'd be able to finally make amends.
[/div][/div]
[/div]

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][div class="imageBorder"]

[/div][/div]

[div class=statusText] Location: Hampton Inn 1st floor; Kitchen
BGM: Burnin' Love
Interactions: The Real Hero BELIAL. |Devil in disguise BasiliskVeranda
OOC: I'm just a troll
[/div]

[div class=statusText][/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
The brunet realized in the space of a second, watching that smile curve across lightly chapped lips and the glimmer sparkle in the depths of ocean blue irises, that he would walk into hellfire if this man asked it of him. "Shit. You caught me red-handed, better use peanut butter next time. I know that's your kryptonite." The right corner of his mouth hitched further upwards, the lopsided smile making him look a bit more boyish than usual. He flipped the oatmeal container in his hand, "Bringing peanut butter into this is just playing dirty, Tesoro."

"Grandma? Haven't been called that one before,"
"Good. I'd be a little worried if someone called you that seriously."

A rough hand grasped his own, the muscles in his arms flexing as he helped pull Nik to his feet. Rhys had expected Nik to pop right up to his feet and maybe stand there for a few moments still holding his hand before one of them moved away. That seemed to have been the going trend between the two after all. What he hadn't expected was for the quasi-devil to use the momentum to move behind him in a way that sort of resembled the dance moves he had performed in the kitchen with Penny. This was different though, there wasn't a purely platonic feeling to the action, and it caused him to swallow audibly. He felt his breath ghost across the shell of his ear and his chest press into his back, hands still locked together. Arctic azure swung to the side as he tilted his head to look at his face. The subtle height difference made it possible for Rhys to see a little more than just the bridge of his nose and slope of his cheeks.

He contemplated turning the blond back around, initially feeling a bit awkward in this position. Rhys wasn't used to having someone pressed against his back, it was comforting but it also festered a bit of uneasiness at the vulnerability of the situation. He didn't enjoy being vulnerable, yet as Nik's hands slid across the shape of his shoulders he felt that unease unravel.

"What are we cooking?"
"..F..Food?"
He closed his eyes for a moment, scowl scrunching his features as he mentally chided himself for stuttering over a simple word. He cleared his throat, offering no resistance as Nik began to steer him back into the kitchen.

"Where are you getting this we from? Last I checked you were laying on the floor while Penny and I were doing all the cooking."
An incredulous look cast itself over his shoulder and toward the afflicted. Rhys paused long enough to turn in place, smirk settled crookedly across his lips, and hands finding purchase on Nik's hips. He leaned forward, the movement not dissimilar to their earlier encounter in the hotel room upstairs. "See if you can find something to strain the pasta with." He breathed, pulling away at the last second to deny the kiss that Nik looked like he had been preparing for. A little chuckle floated out of him, left eye closing briefly to shoot him a playful wink. He waited until Nik moved past him before his hand shot out to tap the man's ass. It was a quick twack, hardly gentle, but it gave him the satisfaction of reciprocating the action.

He flashed a cheeky grin before turning towards the pasta that was now close to boiling on the stove. He pulled a wooden spoon from a drawer and stirred, watching as murky water swished around with the noodles. The sauce began to simmer, the spices and different flavors coated the very air. His stomach grumbled in need, the ache reminding him just how little he had eaten in the past couple days. When Nik reappeared with a strainer, he emptied the hot water into the basket looking thing, watching as it ran down the drain. Steam billowed upwards, causing him to lean away least he get a face full of hot vapor.

The action of shaking the noodles out and dumping them back into the pot was so mundane that it almost made him forget the Hell Gate even existed. It was...nice. He wished that every day could be this easy, instead of a constant consciousness where survival was the only priority. He hummed along to the song playing, right foot tapping to the rhythm as he worked. Rhys engrossed himself in the task, finding that the familiarity helped with the turbulence of his mental state.

"How are those shots lookin' Pen?"

Rhys looked over towards the other blessed, whom he had come to see as a friend, brows arched in silent question. As if suddenly remembering something, he jerked his chin towards the bottles on the counter, "There's wine if you want some, Nik."
He was going to make a joke about not needing to card him, but the jab died on his lips. He didn't actually know how old the other man was, he assumed older but...he hadn't ever said anything and whatever their age gap might be it didn't seem worth bringing up. The societal rules of the past had been thrown out the window years ago, not that age really mattered to begin with, but Rhys couldn't find any reason to fret about it.

He hummed absently at the thought before turning back to the sauce pan.
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[Chise_Robin_]

Alaska​

​

Location: Hampton inn first floor and just outside the inn
mentions: Elegant hairbraider! Lekiel Olive oil life hacker@BasiliskVeranda
Grumpy grandpa who's fantastic with cooking Hell0NHighWater

"Here, I'll help you make that more manageable." Reverie had started a braid, her fingers delicate and the song she started singing was so soothing that had Alaska not been that hungry would have put her straight to sleep.
A smile curled at the tips of the young hunter's mouth as she listened "You have a beautiful voice'' she stated. She'd never heard that song before, and enjoyed every tune until Niklas dropped all the food he'd looted to the ground.


With the speed of a leopard Alaska snatched one of the other protein bars off the floor, pealed it and took a bite which caused her nose to wrinkle up in disgust ''I do hope Rhys' spaghett' turns out better than this thing'' with a shudder she chewed then swallowed the peice, shrugged then finished the rest of it. They didn't have the luxury to throw away food..not in those circumstances.


''but you're just going to make her split ends even more fucked than they were before'' The look on Nik's face was of a sophisticated sassy hairdresser disapproving of a style. "I'm...just going to....pretend...I didn't just become a walking stereotype, and that I didn't try to tell you ladies how to work your own hair....shit," That remark earned a ful hearted laugh from Alaska who almost choked on her protein bar. She picked the olive oil bottle up with one hand and tried to dry a tear caused by all the laughing with the other. ''No no! It's ok!, I have....had guy friends with hair three times longer than mine, and trust me they could maintain it way better than I ever could. And yup my mom used olive oil all the time, she didn't believe in all of the chemicals in normal conditioners'' She thanked Nik for the bottle and flipped it in her hands reading the writings on it.


"The fuck is this? 19 fuckin' 20?" Rhys sounded furious, as if he had something against jazz, it was understandable, given the fact that she herself would have flipped out had it been country music, she couldn't stand that shit. ''This better not be country music grumpy granpa or else i'll run out of here as fast as if i were being chased by Lera..... oh! this is nice! Rock and Roll!'' she watched him slide through the doors leading back to the kitchen grinning and happy, and chuckled at the instant change of his mood with a head shake.


The braid that Reverie managed to make of her hair was classy and brilliant and Alaska thanked her stating that she should teach her how to do it sometimes.
Grabbing the bag of cheese that Nik had dropped with the rest of the food she set it on a plate and put it next to the red wine on the table.
She finished the then sat back down on the couch next to Reverie, folding her legs under her body and nodding at Nik's remark about his music preference. Shrugging, Alaska stated that she was more of a classic and psychedelic rock kinda girl, and that she knew the lyrics to every single Bowie song.


''Has anyone seen Stella?'' The question came like a hundred knives all of a sudden. Alaska hesitated to answer, then cleared her throat before she managed to stutter: ''She.......fell.'' Her eyes rested on the ground as her memory wondered off to Stella's death, her nightmare, and the fear that showed on her emepty dead eyes. ''T...the ghost bodies we burned? I...ahm, I.....didn't want her to become a bell witch.....I didn't want her to suffer anymore than she'd already did, so....''Without feeling the need to continue her sentence she simply stopped talking. The blessed detective coming back to the room with the oatmeal remark took some edge off and she was glad it did. She really wanted a calm, happy dinner for once. She watched them retreat back to the kitchen with a smile, leaned her head back up and enjoyed the smells coming from the kitchen along with the music.

 

[BELIAL.]

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[/div][/div] [div class="PennyDreadful"] PENELOPE VALE[/div] [div class="TextityText"]

Penny gleefully went to busying herself around the giant kitchen, meant to cook for hundreds or less, to find tools and whatnot. She found a few strainers and graters lying about, as well as suspiciously sharp looking knives and cleavers. She grabbed a handful of helpful looking utensils and plopped them on the counter as Alaska walked in. She made a few comments, mostly earning a few smiles from Penny, but it was when she mentioned sugar in the spaghetti did the blonde choke a bit. She looked over her shoulder, incredulous, and then made her way back over to the booze.

The idea of sugar in spaghetti made Penny consider taking a few shots right away. She glared at the bottles, letting any old memories retreat back into the dusty corners they belonged to. She’d had a rough couple of years. Getting drunk… once wasn’t an awful idea. She deserved it! She just hoped that she wouldn’t end up a menace after six or so drinks. Looking over her shoulder again at Rhys, who was condoning any usage of sugar in his spaghetti like a riled-up grandmother, she shuffled over to dig around in the cabinets for shots, or glasses.

“The fuck is this? 19 fucking 20?” She heard Rhys’ disembodied voice carry out from the swinging door, and she stood up. She caught the latter end of the male’s jogging form and replaced him at the stove to watch over the water. Jazz music had been something her grandmother had always enjoyed and had always been sure to blast when Penny got home from class. She had no strong preference for jazz but enjoyed it on occasion. Rhys, as it turned out, may not have been a total fan. She didn’t blame him. Some deconstructed jazz was quite cacophonous.

A new tune came through the crack in the door and put a big smile on Penny’s face as carefully poured some shots. One whiff from the bottle sent her reeling, as it had been a long time since she had had a smell of liquor. Especially the hard stuff, like tequila. She began to bob a bit to it, recognizing immediately the catchy tune. Another one that her grandmother loved endlessly.

Her attention was whipped back to the door as Rhys literally slid through, very Risky Business-esque, and much more acutely attentive to the tunes. She smiled at him, letting out a little chuckle, and then turned back to her work. She slid out of his way, the dancing machine, as he resumed his post at the stove. She rolled her eyes as he danced and sang but enjoyed every bit of this bouncy and happy Rhys. Hours ago, the stakes had been real, and the circumstances dire. It was nice to be able to unload, to some extent. Part of her worried if this would be the last time.

Even if… She would remember this moment. She’d remember the emotions, and the happiness on everyone’s face. She’d remember the peace, and she’d use it to keep herself grounded… no matter what happened. It was something to fight for.

“Number forty-seven said to number three:

‘You’re the cutest jailbird I ever did see

I sure would be delighted with your company

Come on and do the Jailhouse Rock with me’ “

She threw up a smirk, pausing her job to press a fist to her side and watch in muted amusement. He started to dance more, and a full-on laugh escaped Penny’s lips. She was enraptured, mostly in sheer awe that the ever stoic Rhysie could loosen up like that. “Wow, Rhys, you’re looking great. A pity Nik isn’t here.” She laughed again and could only let a peal of pure giggles slip out when he grabbed her hand and made her dance with him. Penny laughed loudly, mostly at the absurdity of it but also from the pure waves of enjoyment rolling through the blonde’s core. She felt truly at peace, and for a second could have easily forgotten that the end of the world had already played out.

He relinquished his dancing partner and Penny shook her head, giving Rhys a smirk and a side eye as she resumed measuring shots. Rhys slipped out of the door, quite literally, and left Penny the simmering sauce, boiling pasta and lines of liquor. Here gaze was drawn to the tiny, crystalline glasses. Rhys wouldn’t mind if she started early… right?

“I’m really dang stressed… we all are… I’m tired too. Yeah, it’s totally reasonable.” She shrugged, trying to convince herself as she pinched her nose and slugged back a shot of tequila. The instant burn was dulled only by a tenth from her lack of olfaction. A rush of warmth slid down Penny’s throat and esophagus, and she shivered from the sensation. Staring at the empty glass, and tapping it against the counter, she contemplated taking another one. It would be fine, right?

Another one down the shoot.

And another.

And another.

And another.

And…. Well, she’d wait for Rhys for sure, since she was already five or six down the shoot already. Or was it four? Penny’s head spun a bit, but she steeled herself against the counter. Some help she was with the cooking.

Penny pushed herself off, only stumbling a little bit as she whirled around to a sudden influx of voices. “How are those shots lookin’ Pen?”

Her eyes widened, and she swallowed to hide the burn in her face. She smiled, giggling a little bit. “They are looking… real great there Rhys.” She grinned even brighter, spinning on her heel to face Nik, who was a new addition to the kitchen. Penny waved at him, her face burning even now. She was fine, though. For sure. Totally fine.

“There’s some wine if you want some, Nik.” Rhys said, and Penny nodded as she gestured theatrically to the bottle on the counter. She scooped it up in her hands and gazed at the label, holding the bottle gingerly like a child.

“Chateau blah blah blah… no wait, it says Cabernet Sauvivonnn… 1999. Should be yummy fun time if you’ve got some juice or some fruit. Make a yummy Sangria! But then you’d have to share, okay?” She giggled, sliding forward to bestow the heavenly wine to the awaiting embrace of its new owner. “Take care of her, okay?”

Penny straightened, pointing a finger to herself and then to the boys. “I’m not drunk, by the way. I hold my liquor very well, mind you. I’m just tipsy. For sure. Could go longer. Finish that spaghetti Rhys.”

She pointed again, but to a strainer she had put on the counter earlier. “There, Nicky. Go for it. Strain away baby.” [/div]

[div class="TinyLines"][/div] Interacting: Hell0NHighWater BasiliskVeranda | Mentioned: Nik, Rhys, Alaska | Located: Old Hampton Inn, 1st floor (Kitchen) [div class="TinyLines" style="margin-bottom:0px;"][/div] [/div] [/div]

 

[Anise]

KAYDEN JULIAN HUANG​

INTERACTING: little cinnamon roll Lakyr , the coolest state in town Chise_Robin_
MENTIONED: two pink fluffy unicorns dancing on rainbows aka our dads Hell0NHighWater BasiliskVeranda
OOC: lalalalalala, enjoy :3


"Hey, are you okay?"


It was James, the resident cinnamon roll. Kayden flinched a bit due to the sudden sound that snapped him out of the trans of the deep thoughts of his.


Giving James a faint smile he was feeling badly embarrassed of how much he'd really softened during all these years he'd spent not truly being a hunter, not doing the job he was born to do, not respecting his legacy, turning his back to every single thing possibly related to his previous life.


His life before escaping the claws of hell itself, his life before moving on, leaving his father, the two of his half brothers and a half sister.


Returning back to Canada he found out that his mother has been diagnosed with a rare form of dementia, not accepting him for being her child. Her new husband forced Kayden to leave the place, slamming the doors behind his back, closing every single road that could lead to happiness…


…but he didn't give up.


The freckled hunter stayed around for a few weeks, paying visits to his mother while she was being left alone in the house, painting on the canvas, making gentle strokes with all the different types of brushes she owned. There was no way he could ever leave her. He always carried her deep in his heart wherever he went.


Although the rejection, he would never walk away, never. He had made an oath that day, the day they took him away. A promise. A promise to never forget her. A promise to always love her, no matter what.


His mother had passed away just a few weeks after, leaving without a goodbye, without giving her son the last hug he desperately needed, without even knowing that he'd ever existed.



Kayden shook his head,

''Oh, hey Jams. Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry.'' He didn't even notice that the other hunter had put a hand onto his shoulder, still thinking of the reason why he'd become so 'soft', when Alaska rushed in,


" shit Kay! Are you alright?"


A voice of an old friend.


''Uhm, yeah Ally, I'm ok….have just experienced the worst date of my entire life, but yes. I think I have to be more specific when it comes to describing the type of girl I like.''


Looking back at James he saw the cinnamon roll was about to say something,


"You look like you saw a ghost."


A deadpan expression painting on his face, ''DUUUDEEE, IT WAS A F*****G GHOOSTT, WHY YOU-'' the silent scream echoed through his skull but then stopped as he turned his head back at the two.


Seeing both of them smiling, Kayden couldn't help but started to chuckle along,


''Haha, yes. You'd look the same if you haven't seen a ghost from your academy days,'' the words slipped through his mouth, recognizing that the boy was just trying to lighten up the mood.


He appreciated the little moments of happiness. The moments he'll certainly cherish till the day he dies.


A lot of patting shoulders followed, making Kayden to give them both that annoyed kind of expression, indicating he's not a child anymore and that they can stop.


Although annoyed, the freckled hunter actually felt something that disturbed him a lot more.


The warm, weird feeling inside his chest he hadn't felt for years.


''Maybe I'm coming down with something,'' he quietly asked himself inside his head, when James held out his hand to help Kayden to get back on his feet, while standing up himself.


Standing up, he gave the young hunter a genuine smile saying 'thank you'.


He really appreciated the help, but couldn't stop himself from cracking up a joke,


''Thank you for helping the elderly, Jams,'' he said with a smirk.




" it's over now-'', Alaska tried to console the confused freckles, when he cut her off,


''Ally it's no-''


'' I hope?..''


That ''I hope,'' really shut his mouth closed. The sweet, foolish words stung as poison. He knew there was no such hope for them in this world. They would all die in the end, it was just the matter of time that's been given to them.


Kayden shook his head, acknowledging the fact that the dark sudden thoughts somehow made their way back into his mind,''Roasted marshmallows…'' he said in his mind, wanting to distract himself,


''imagine Rhys owning a store where he'd be selling roasted marshmallows along with that Niky-chan, kicking ass barbie doll, Nik.''


Kayden barely stopped himself from bursting to laughter. He imagined it all. A vivid picture of their 'parents' wearing baby pink aprons along with that pink googles of theirs, their hair covered in golden glitter with-


''Ok, fuck, enough, Alaska is talking,'' the words echoed through his head,




''…one hell of a week wasn-"


A LOUD THUD, THAT DISTURBED HER, how rude.


Kayden fixed his posture. Being alert of the situation he dashed outside, following Alaska and James when they came to the sight of a body lying in the snow.


Kayden gasped, covering his mouth with both of his hands.


Seeing Alaska devastated, he approached her. It was his turn to pat shoulders now,


''Ally, it's ok, she's just….sleeping,'' his voice full of compassion, when Alaska stood up, grabbed the body, dragged it to the fire pit and then threw it into the flames that desperately craved for another victim of its burning flames.


She fell to her knees. A friend so broken, he couldn't watch it anymore.


He approached his old friend, wrapped his arms around her shoulders, but not too tight so that she could move away and then gave her a big hug when he saw she embraced it,


''It's ok, Ally, you've done right.''




When the three of them started walking back towards the inn, Kayden took one last glimpse of the fire,


''After all of this, I'm kind of happy I'm not a true hunter,'' he said to no one in particular, just letting out a random thought that came to his mind at the time. Seeing Alaska, seeing her pain he remembered that there had to be more such things that happened in her life, along with Alexander's death, and that made him feel sorry for her.


Then he glanced back at the cinnamon roll. So young he was and yet he fought the monsters like a pro, so brave.


Seeing them, it all overflowed the confused freckles with feelings of pride. He almost became too attached to the two, getting the slight feeling of as if he was becoming more and more protective to the two,


''Not a hair will fall off their heads while I'm alive,'' the words flowed through his head.




Entering the inn, he noticed that Rhys' group had made their way back to the first floor. He waved at them and then stayed at the lobby because he didn't know where else he'd put himself. Everyone seemed like doing something and then there was Kayden, looking over at Jams, wanting to crack up some kind of a joke, but sadly having an empty mind.


He crossed his arms and started swinging back and forward on the same spot, bored af.

 

[BasiliskVeranda]

[class=biggie] width: 100%; margin: 0 auto; text-align: center; clear:both; font-size:13px; color: #1d1b15; font-weight:100; display:flex; flex-flow: row nowrap; height: 100%; [/class] [class=whut]background-color: #fff; padding:30px; [/class] [class=handsomedevil] background: #fff; text-align: center; margin: 0 auto; padding:20px; color: #1d1b15; font-weight:800; flex: 1; border: 3px solid #181a1b; outline: 2px solid #988b42; font-size:13px; [/class] [class=speaks] border: 3px solid #181a1b; outline: 2px solid #988b42; font-size:13px; max-height:1780px; overflow: auto; line-height:1.9; ;padding:2%; text-align: left; background:#181a1b; flex: 1; flex-basis: 30%; margin-left: 40px; margin-right:15px; color: #fff; [/class] [class=speaksup] color: #1d1b15; border: 3px solid #181a1b; outline: 2px solid #988b42; font-size:50px; word-spacing: 4px; letter-spacing: 5px; ;padding:1%; text-align: center; background:#fff; margin-right:15px; [/class] [class=speakeasy] border: 3px solid #181a1b; outline: 2px solid #988b42; letter-spacing:2px; word-spacing: 4px; text-align: center; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #fff; font-weight:100; background: #181a1b;[/class] [class=speakeasy2] border: 3px solid #181a1b; outline: 2px solid #988b42; text-align: left; font-size:12px; padding:20px; color: #fff; font-weight:100; background: #181a1b; line-height:1.9; [/class] [class name=handsomedevil maxWidth="800px"] margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px[/class] [class name=biggie maxWidth="800px"] padding: 0px; margin: 0 auto; flex-direction: column;[/class] [class name=speaks maxWidth="800px"]margin: 0 auto; padding: 10px; margin-top:20px; overflow: hidden; max-height: 100%;[/class] [class name=bye maxWidth="800px"]display:none[/class]
[div class=whut]
[div class=biggie]
[div class=handsomedevil] [div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦`𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦'𝘴. [/div]


𝘕𝘐𝘒𝘓𝘈𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘈𝘔 𝘝𝘖𝘚𝘚

[div class=speakeasy2]LOCATION — Hampton Inn, 1st Floor
OOC: another shorty thing my bad. I'm going to do that thing emma's writer used to do because my brain is jelly, my bad.
BGM — DAVID BOWIE - REBEL REBEL
[/div]
[div class=speakeasy]𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳.[/div]
[/div][div class=speaks]
Chise_Robin_
''I do hope Rhys' spaghett' turns out better than this thing,'' Alaska said as she chewed on one of the crumbled cardboard disgraces Nik's bag had strewn out for all the world to partake in. The blond grit his teeth just thinking about it, but something was better than nothing. There had inevitably been plenty of times he had gone without eating, and the weakness that came with it was crippling. As long as it didn't make you upchuck, any food was worth it, really.

Beggars can't be choosers, the apocalypse had made that fact painfully clear for all of them.

"Anything anyone makes will be a damn gourmet feast compared to that garbage," Nik said, his mouth twisting in disdain as he gestured at the protein bars, "I'm sure the detective will come through, better him making food than me. All I can make are...omelettes," he offered with a small shrug. This wasn't entirely true, he just rarely dared to make much else. His dishes always came out looking like twice-regurgitated dog food, despite being delicious. Even when following a recipe by the book, things would turn out completely differently than he had planned.

He had always just chalked it up to dumb luck, which he seemingly had an endless supply of.

Alaska's laughter was the sweetest of music, it took the sting of his self-induced cringe down to a low pulse. Nik was very aware of himself and how he was portrayed, at least in physicality. He was a vain fucker, and imbibing in stereotypes, even half-heartedly, bristled his ego. However, he was happy she was finding his embarrassment amusing, and he showed her as much with a broad smile.

''She.......fell.'' That wasn't the response he had been expecting, he held his breath while she finished trying to spindle out just what had happened.
''T...the ghost bodies we burned? I...ahm, I.....didn't want her to become a bell witch.....I didn't want her to suffer anymore than she'd already did, so....'' The shift in her demeanor made Nik's heart skip a beat. He stood perfectly still in this moment, and reached painfully slowly for the necklace in the pocket of his joggers, clasping it between clenched fingers.

"...I'm sorry you had to do that for her. But thankful you did....fuck. We keep losing so many...." his sentence trailed off into nothingness, but his mind filled in the blanks: friends, allies, family members, each term holding too little weight for what they were. Each term being too pale, too anemic. She went out blind, and scared. No one deserved that, not even the thirsty witch.

Even when she had attacked Rhys, she hadn't truly been aware of what she was doing. For her to just...fall...seemed terribly unfair. He wondered for far too long in that moment just how many of their colony of survivors would make it through the next month, let alone the next week. Heaven certainly didn't care about the little humans who ran across the skin of the earth, terrified.

Nor did it seem to care about the earth itself, all wound up in blackness and hellfire.

What was the point of all this pain? Did it have any other purpose? Was it...amusing for the things bigger than they were, amusing because boundless power became boring with boundless time? Leraje certainly hit that idea home for the blond, and he soured in all hues thinking on just what greater beasts were in play, and what they may be planning—or not planning.

Fingers playing with the moonstone of the necklace he now didn't even know what to do with anymore, his expression was unreadable.

Heaven and hell were playing with their food perhaps, or just engaging in a game of drunken mini-golf, ripping up the earth with each swing, and stomping on the humans below without even missing a beat. Drink became catastrophic weather when spilled, and when God sat his fat ass down to check his line of sight, the earth cracked in half.

He detested the not-knowing. He loathed not understanding. However, the feeling of being subjugated and wielded without even a say in the matter was the thing that pissed him off the most.

⛥⛥⛥​

Hell0NHighWater & BELIAL.
"..F..Food?" Nik chuckled under his breath, the detective's fluster was particularly endearing. And particularly a good panacea for his dreary mood. It's like his brain had liquefied for a few moments, when all the blond had done was skitter him about more or less. Apparently the whitelighter had two forms of kryptonite, and now Nik had another weapon of chaos to wield. Which was horrible, if not amazing, because the devilish little shit did so love to push peoples' buttons.

"Where are you getting this we from? Last I checked you were laying on the floor while Penny and I were doing all the cooking."
"Ah, so you don't want me to help, then?" Nik asked, casually keening up to fetter his words into Rhys' ear yet again. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he did it well. However, he wasn't the only one apt to be pushing buttons, and Rhys turned the tables when he glanced, and then shifted.

"See if you can find something to strain the pasta with." He was dangerously close, hands on the blond's hips, Nik's grin drawing broader across his face with each passing moment, and then, nothing, the short distance between them now was like an unfathomable league of oceans.

"Tease," Nik chuckled under his breath, tilting his head to the side as he went on the mission he had been tasked with. He was about to mention something about the olive oil for the pasta, when Rhys caught him off-guard with a slap to rear. Startled at first, however, it was Nik's turn to have his brain scrambled into molten gelatin, leaving him with a stupid look on his face, and a smile that wouldn't leave.

"How are those shots lookin' Pen?"
"Shots?" Nik asked, almost like he were a fucking parrot, confused at the foreign word rolling around in his mouth. It was like in the time before...shots, pasta, good food, good company. His deep blue eyes lit up like a thousand little galaxies and his mouth blossomed into an infectious, earnest smile.

Penny surfaced into view and gave him a friendly wave, and he studied the look in her eyes, the pink to her cheeks, the casual glow of her gaze. Nik started to laugh under his breath, something winding, in a consistent clip, blue eyes gazing over the face of his light in the dark as she postured herself.

“They are looking… real great there Rhys.” Nik's laughter petered up into a broad-mouthed cackle.

"There's wine if you want some, Nik."
"Got me pegged for a wine-mom already, huh?" he asked with a sly look in his eyes, a wicked grin turning at the corner of his mouth.

“Chateau blah blah blah… no wait, it says Cabernet Sauvivonnn… 1999. Should be yummy fun time if you’ve got some juice or some fruit. Make a yummy Sangria! But then you’d have to share, okay?”
"Fuck yes. Sangria coming up, Pennysworth," he said raising his arms to receive the 'child'.
“Take care of her, okay?” She had this way of tilting the corner of her brow just so, her token 'tell', so to speak, and he found it absolutely adorable. His eyes softened, he smiled warmly, and with his whole heart. He took their blessed babe in his arms, comically.

"I will, Pen, I will. Be right back, " was all he said before skittering back to where the others were lounging, swooping down to nab the dried fruit packets in fistfuls, and hauling ass back like the proper girly-drink bastard he was.

Nik had managed to pick through what utensils, cups, bowls, and whatnot Penny had found, and got himself a proper pitcher. He deftly sliced through each packet of dried fruit with his blades, one solid sweep at a time, at an incalculable pace. He really was quite handy with blades. Then came the fruit bits, poured into the pitcher, the wine poured in, and stirred. It'd take a little bit for the fruit to really take on any semblance of their previous glory, but the small wait was worth it.

“I’m not drunk, by the way. I hold my liquor very well, mind you. I’m just tipsy. For sure. Could go longer. Finish that spaghetti Rhys.”
"Listen to her, she could drink all of us under the table, I put money on it," he offered, plopping in a few more bits of fruit. This wouldn't be the best Sangria he had ever made, they didn't have any juice, and there was no ice, but it would be the best Sangria he had ever shared. He was sure of this, because they were together, here, enjoying their time with one another. A well-deserved break from all this chaos, the wine would taste all the sweeter for just how far they'd come.

“There, Nicky. Go for it. Strain away baby.”
"Pennifer, I know how to strain pasta..." he said with a genial laugh and an eye roll, wielding back to help strain out the pasta and get things settled so that everyone could finally sit down to an actual fucking meal. He hadn't...he was sure they hadn't, really, sit down for a meal-meal...in forever. Not since Velska had made up that stew. But before that, had he really ever...had any of them...had a time to just sit, enjoy some pleasant conversation, and get drunk?

Fuck no. It was like they were making their own little heaven on earth. Bringing the best part of the time before to the here and now, stealing away a small moment of respite. Because tomorrow, they could all be dead and gone. Or worse than that. And tonight, tonight was for a new set of memories, ones he hoped they'd hold forever.

Because he certainly would.

Nik helped Penny the Tipsy, and Rhys the Tease finish up the meal as best he could. Making sure not to burn or ruin anything, as he was apt to do but did his part to bring things out to the dining area. When they were finished of course.

However, he couldn't quite wait for the Sangria to settle, so took it upon himself to lob a good few cups of wine into a smallish secondary pitcher, and sweep some down his throat while the fruit re-hydrated in the other one. He had poured more shots, set out some water bottles he had next to the wine and cheese, and hefted the olive oil bottle nearby in case anyone wanted it with their food.

Any other bits of odds and ends of food he had, he had placed about. The sardines remained closed however, they smelled horrific, but were actually quite tasty.

Pink sunglasses now once again firmly on his face, Nik took back a splash of wine into his mouth and simmered himself down into a chair. Unlike Penny, he was not an expert, nor was he a lightweight. However, he was clearly buzzed, enjoying himself, and dawdling with a fresh new cigarette. All smiles, cheeks pink, and as goofy as the day was long.

⛥⛥⛥​

Lakyr
"James...psst. James. Hey. Do you want a cigarette?" he asked his young friend, shaking the box in his hand as he reclined, head lulling. Salient, but, definitely warmed by the brew. Tonight was for sharing, not for him being a little bitch about his cigarettes. He gave the other man his token half-smile.

For anyone else that wanted some, he would offer. He cast a gaze to Ryan, Daisy, and even Reverie if she smoked at all. Now they'd wait for the meal to be fully ready, the wine in the main pitcher had almost worked its wonders on the fruit, and soon, they'd get to eat. A real, honest-to-god, fucking meal.

[/div][/div]
[/div]

 

[Hell0NHighWater]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][div class="imageBorder"]

[/div][/div]

[div class=statusText] Location: Hampton Inn 1st floor; Kitchen
BGM-Obviously-not-playing-on-the-radio: Slither
Interactions: Sunshine BELIAL. |Goddamn BasiliskVeranda | Snowfall Chise_Robin_ | Sparkles Lekiel | Cupcake Anise | Ryan Lakyr
[/div]

[div class=statusText][/div][/div][div class=title]Rhys Contiello[/div][div class=text]
“They are looking… real great there Rhys.”
Dark brows skyrocketed, taking his eyes off the sauce at the sound of Penny's giggles. She must have started without him and, if the pink twinge to her cheeks was anything to go by, she must have had a few shots already. He hadn't expected her to be a lightweight and yet...here they were. To be fair, he didn't know how many straight shots she took, but he hadn't been gone long enough for it to be very many. He scooted over, hand reaching for the tiny shot glass she had set out for him and inspected the translucent liquid that sloshed around inside. His face set itself into a grimace as the liquor slid down his throat in one motion. He tolerated the burn from Tequila, loathed the smell, abhorred the whole salt and lime bit, and would rather shoot shots of vodka straight than taste something this disgusting, but beggars couldn't be choosers. He wasn't about to finish the rest of that bottle of jack he had been lugging around just in case he needed it...for emergencies.

"God that shit is nasty."
He grumbled, moving back to turn the heat off on the stove. They could probably eat in a couple of minutes if he found some serving plates he could bring everything right out into the dining room instead of having a buffet style line up. “Chateau blah blah blah… no wait, it says Cabernet Sauvivonnn… 1999. Should be yummy fun time if you’ve got some juice or some fruit. Make a yummy Sangria! But then you’d have to share, okay?”
"Fuck yes. Sangria coming up, Pennysworth."

Rhys coughed to disguise a laugh, busying himself with another shot. Sun bleached forget-me-not petals ringed with deepest indigo rotated towards the two golden girls, the corner of his mouth ticked up at the sight of them exchanging a bottle like some sort of precious child. It was adorable really. A repulsive shudder rolled through him and he thought about cracking open that Captain Morgan because anything would be better than this swill. It was like he was burning his organs from the inside out with each ounce.

“I’m not drunk, by the way. I hold my liquor very well, mind you. I’m just tipsy. For sure. Could go longer. Finish that spaghetti Rhys.”
"Don't tell me how to live my life you lush."
"Listen to her, she could drink all of us under the table, I put money on it,"
"Money, huh?"

He chuckled under his breath, head shaking as his eyes rolled in an exaggerated fashion, shooting the woman a disbelieving look. If she was calling Niklas Nicky, there was no way she was 'just tipsy'. Unless that was normal for her. He assumed by Nik's playful, borderline sarcastic, rebuttal that the other whitelighter was on the way to being completely shit faced. Which was something he would love to see. It had been a long time since he had gotten drunk with friends and he was looking forward to letting lose. The Tequila warmed his stomach and buzzed through his veins, spreading the beginnings of an almost bubbly feeling that he hadn't experienced in a long time. The third shot only added more kindling to that warmth. It was a pleasant feeling, on the verge of being tipsy but not quite. His tolerance definitely wasn't what it used to be, but it was by far higher than what he assumed Penny's to be (at least he wasn't flushed face and giggly yet).

"How much are you betting, Voss?"
He bit the edge of a smile in a vain attempt at keeping a grin at bay. The intention behind his perking lips wasn't benevolent in the slightest, the types of thoughts churning in the back of his mind would have made a Nun blush beet red. He downed another shot almost as quickly as it had been poured. Rhys found himself a bit fascinated with the steady arcs and cuts of those blades in Nik's skilled hands. Never in his life had he seen someone cut fruit that fast and with so much precision. If he tried that, he probably would have lost a finger or two. He was so transfixed in watching him that he almost dumped the cooked pasta on the counter instead of in the serving bowl. The fuchsia stain across lightly tanned cheeks didn't have anything to do with the couple of shots he had ingested.

He handed off the serving bowl with sauce to Nik and the bowl with the pasta to Penny, trailing behind to grab the more important items. Those shots might have begun to effect him more than he previously thought, gaze brazenly roaming across broad shoulders, dipping to the curve of the spine and lowering even further to the slope of a nicely shaped butt. He hovered in the kitchen transfixed as the others moved out into the dining room to complete set up. The door swinging closed broke his focus and his eyes swung towards the heavens as if mentally sending a prayer. He wiggled the cap off the rum, kicking the bottle back into his mouth and letting a gulp of amber delights slide down his throat.
He closed and reopened his eyes, taking a deep breath before following them out to the dining room.

† † †​

Being drunk used to be a coping mechanism. A bad day at work or an argument with Monica, drinking beer until the bar closed had always been the answer. He'd stagger through dark streets, one hand on the nearest wall, suit a rumpled mess, and fingers twitching for a cigarette. If he was singing, telling horrible jokes, or flirting with anything that moved he had been genuinely harmless, if not it wasn't a good idea to get in his way. He hadn't been a mean drunk very often, usually only happened on those rare occasions where the day had been particularly bad, and he always felt like shit about it in the morning. He hadn't touched a bottle --besides the Jack that he kept for medical purposes-- in two years.

Here though, surrounded by survivors he trusted, there was an element of relaxation that he couldn't afford to ignore. His eyes sparkled like storm clouds right before lightning hit, the intensity of his gaze resting on the blond sitting across the way. He was talking to James, offering him a cigarette with a goofy smile and obnoxious sunglasses. They were indoors so Rhys wasn't exactly sure why he was wearing them other than to be a dork, but they'd be off by the end of the night. Thrown carelessly into a dark corner between breathless remarks and pawing hands. A slick smile spread, dimpling his cheeks in a way that was both cute and concerning.

Rhys leaned back in the chair as if he didn't have a care in the world, bottle of tequila in hand he poured out two more sets of shots with an expert precision that said he'd done this exact type of thing plenty of times before. He slid one shot across to Penny, leveling her with a challenging stare. "I've got a prize to win here, Sunshine, and I don't take kindly to losing."
He raised the shot as if exaggerating his point and saluting her all at once before knocking it back. He shook his head and smirked, setting the shot glass back on the table and tossing her a wink. His head turned towards the slightly younger girl sitting beside him, looping an arm around the hunter's shoulders.

"Nice braid you've got there, Snowfall, did one of the Glamour Girls do that for ya?"
He tilted his head to the side, shooting her a million dollar grin. Rhys looked over at Reverie then, all smirks and mischief. "I'm a big fan of your work, Sparkles, maybe you could show me sometime." The tilt to his lips proved that he knew exactly how that sounded and didn't seem to care how the implication came across. He found the witch attractive, sure, but the alcohol was doing most of the talking for him at this point. Rhys removed his arm from Alaska's shoulders to pile some food onto his plate after everyone else had gotten some. He set the rum bottle in front of the young woman who he had come to see as a sister, gaze almost daring, "Snowfall, you can have some of the rum if you want, but only you alright? I have a gun and I know how to use it." The grin he gave was innocent, yet the tone of his words were edged with just enough seriousness to show he meant it.

He placed the other rounded glass in front of Kayden, "Alright, cupcake, listen, we're gonna do shots. You've had a shot before right? You know how this works?" He leaned over to the other side where the second hunter sat, filling up both shot glasses. "If you don't want it, that's fine, I'll drink it. But you only live once right?"
A low chuckle left his chest and he held up the glass in a quick salute before downing it. He blanched at the taste, chasing it with a sip of rum and a bite of food. The pasta wasn't that bad. He was pleasantly surprised for a moment, then thought better of it. If he couldn't have made a simple dish like this his Grandfather would have crawled out from the grave and beat him within an inch of his life.

"Hey, hey, Ryan. Get in on this man. Unless, you don't think you can keep up."
The grin was sharp, shark-like, daring the other man to refuse the challenge as he held the bottle out towards him.

He leaned back in his chair, shrugging off his jacket as the room suddenly felt far too warm for his liking. He dug into the food along with everyone else, taking shots periodically between bites of food.
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